Ntv ,<SITYOF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 SADIE
 
 Side-stepping 
 with Shorty 
 
 By 
 
 Sewell Ford 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 Francis Vaux Wilson 
 
 NEW YORK 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY
 
 Copyright ', jyo8, by Mitchell Kenntrlif
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 NOTICE any gold dust on my back ? No ? Well it's 
 a wonder there ain't, for I've been up againt the money 
 bags so close I expect you can find eagle prints all 
 over me. 
 
 That's what it is to build up a rep. Looks like all 
 the fat wads in New York was gettin' to know about 
 Shorty McCabe, and how I'm a sure cure for every- 
 thing that ails 'em. You see, I no sooner take hold 
 of one down and outer, sweat the high livin' out of 
 him, and fix him up like new with a private course 
 of rough house exercises, than he passes the word 
 along to another ; and so it goes. 
 
 This last was the limit, though. One day I'm called 
 to the 'phone by some mealy mouth that wants to know 
 if this is the Physical Culture Studio. 
 
 " Sure as ever," says I. 
 
 " Well," says he, " I'm secretary to Mr. Fletcher 
 Dawes." 
 
 "That's nice," says I. "How's Fletch?" 
 
 " Mr. Dawes," says he, " will see the professah at 
 fawh o'clock this awfternoon." 
 
 9
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Is that a guess," says I, " or has he been havin' his 
 fortune told ? " 
 
 " Who is this ? " says the gent at the other end of 
 the wire, real sharp and sassy. 
 
 " Only me," says I. 
 
 " Well, who are you ? " says he. 
 
 " I'm the witness for the defence," says I. " I'm 
 Professor McCabe, P. C. D., and a lot more that I 
 don't use on week days." 
 
 " Oh ! " says he, simmerin' down a bit. " This is 
 Professor McCabe himself, is it? Well, Mr. Fletcher 
 Dawes requiahs youah services. You are to repawt 
 at his apartments at fawh o'clock this awfternoon 
 fawh o'clock, understand ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," says I. " That's as plain as a dropped 
 egg on a plate of hash. But say, Buddy; you tell 
 Mr. Dawes that next time he wants me just to pull 
 the string. If that don't work, he can whistle; and 
 when he gets tired of whistlin', and I ain't there, he'll 
 know I ain't comin'. Got them directions? Well, 
 think hard, and maybe you'll figure it out later. Ta, 
 ta, Mister Secretary." With that I hangs up the re- 
 ceiver and winks at Swifty Joe. 
 
 " Swifty," says I, " they'll be usin' us for rubber 
 stamps if we don't look out." 
 
 " Who was the guy ? " says he. 
 
 " Some pinhead up to Fletcher Dawes's," says I. 
 
 10
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 " Hully chee ! " says Swifty. 
 
 Funny, ain't it, how most everyone'll prick up their 
 ears at that name ? And it don't mean so much money 
 as John D.'s or Morgan's does, either. But what them 
 two and Harriman don't own is divided up among 
 Fletcher Dawes and a few others. Maybe it's because 
 Dawes is such a free spender that he's better adver- 
 tised. Anyway, when you say Fletcher Dawes you 
 think of a red-faced gent with a fistful of thousand- 
 dollar bills offerin' to buy the White House for a 
 stable. 
 
 But say, he might have twice as much, and I 
 wouldn't hop any quicker. I'm only livin' once, and 
 it may be long or short, but while it lasts I don't in- 
 tend to do the lackey act for anyone. 
 
 Course, I thinks the jolt I gave that secretary chap 
 closes the incident. But around three o'clock that 
 same day, though, I looks down from the front window 
 and sees a heavy party in a fur lined overcoat bein' 
 helped out of a shiny benzine wagon by a pie faced 
 valet, and before I'd done guessin' where they was 
 headed for they shows up in the office door. 
 
 " My name is Dawes. Fletcher Dawes," says the 
 gent in the overcoat. 
 
 " I could have guessed that," says I. " You look 
 somethin' like the pictures they print of you in the 
 Sunday papers." 
 
 II
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear it," says he. 
 
 But say, he's less of a prize hog than you'd think, 
 come to get near forty-eight around the waist, I 
 should say, and about a number sixteen collar. You 
 wouldn't pick him out by his face as the kind of a man 
 that you'd like to have holdin' a mortgage on the old 
 homestead, though, nor one you'd like to sit opposite 
 to in a poker game eyes about a quarter of an inch 
 apart, lima bean ears buttoned down close, and a 
 mouth like a crack in the pavement. 
 
 He goes right at tellin' what he wants and when 
 he wants it, sayin' he's a little out of condition and 
 thinks a few weeks of my trainin' was just what he 
 needed. Also he throws out that I might come up 
 to the Brasstonia and begin next day. 
 
 " Yes ? " says I. " I heard somethin' like that over 
 the 'phone." 
 
 " From Corson, eh ? " says he. " He's an ass ! 
 Never mind him. You'll be up to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Say," says I, " where'd you get the idea I went 
 out by the day ? " 
 
 " Why," says he, " it seems to me I heard something 
 about " 
 
 " Maybe they was personal friends of mine," says I. 
 "That's different. Anybody else comes here to see 
 me." 
 
 " Ah ! " says he, suckin' in his breath through his 
 
 12
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 teeth and levelin' them blued steel eyes of his at me. 
 " I suppose you have your price ? " 
 
 " No," says I ; " but I'll make one, just special for 
 you. It'll be ten dollars a minute." 
 
 Say, what's the use? We saves up till we gets a 
 little wad of twenties about as thick as a roll of 
 absorbent cotton, and with what we got in the bank 
 and some that's lent out, we feel as rich as platter 
 gravy. Then we bumps up against a really truly 
 plute, and gets a squint at his dinner check, and we 
 feels like panhandlers workin' a side street. Honest, 
 with my little ten dollars a minute gallery play, I 
 thought I was goin' to have him stunned. 
 
 " That's satisfactory," says he. " To-morrow, at 
 four." 
 
 That's all. I'm still standin' there with my mouth' 
 open when he's bein' tucked in among the tiger skins. 
 And I'm bought up by the hour, like a bloomin' he 
 massage artist! Feel? I felt like I'd fit loose in a 
 gas pipe. 
 
 But Swifty, who's had his ear stretched out and his 
 eyes bugged all the time, begins to do the walk around 
 and look me over as if I was a new wax figger in a 
 museum. 
 
 " Ten plunks a minute ! " says he. " Hully chee ! " 
 
 " Ah, forget it ! " says I. " D'ye suppose I want 
 to be reminded that I've broke into the bath rubber 
 
 13
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 class? G'wan! Next time you see me prob'ly I'll 
 be wearin' a leather collar and a tag. Get the mitts 
 on, you South Brooklyn bridge rusher, and let me 
 show you how I can hit before I lose my nerve alto- 
 gether ! " 
 
 Swifty says he ain't been used so rough since the 
 time he took the count from Cans ; but it was a relief 
 to my feelin's; and when he come to reckon up that 
 I'd handed him two hundred dollars' worth of punches 
 without chargin' him a red, he says he'd be proud to 
 have me do it every day. 
 
 If it hadn't been that I'd chucked the bluff my- 
 self, I'd scratched the Dawes proposition. But I ain't 
 no hand to welch; so up I goes next afternoon, with 
 my gym. suit in a bag, and gets my first inside view of 
 the Brasstonia, where the plute hangs out. And say, 
 if you think these down town twenty-five-a-day joints 
 is swell, you ought to get some Pittsburg friend to 
 smuggle you into one of these up town apartment 
 hotels that's run exclusively for trust presidents. Why, 
 they don't have any front doors at all. You're ex- 
 pected to come and go in your bubble, but the rules lets 
 you use a cab between certain hours. 
 
 I tries to walk in, and was held up by a three hun- 
 dred pound special cop in grey and gold, and made to 
 prove that I didn't belong in the baggage elevator 
 or the ash hoist. Then I'm shown in over the Turkish 
 
 14
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 rugs to a solid gold passenger lift, set in a velvet arm 
 chair, and shot up to the umpteenth floor. 
 
 I was lookin' to find Mr. Dawes located in three or 
 four rooms and bath, but from what I could judge 
 of the size of his ranch he must pay by acreage in- 
 stead of the square foot, for he has a whole wing to 
 himself. And as for hired help, they was standin' 
 around in clusters, all got up in baby blue and silver, 
 with mugs as intelligent as so many frozen codfish. 
 Say, it would give me chillblains on the soul to have 
 to live with that gang lookin' on! 
 
 I'm shunted from one to the other, until I gets to 
 Dawes, and he leads the way into a big room with 
 rubber mats, punchin' bags, and all the fixin's you 
 could think of. 
 
 "Will this do?" says he. 
 
 " It'll pass," says I. " And if you'll chase out that 
 bunch of employment bureau left-overs, we'll get 
 down to business." 
 
 " But," says he, " I thought you might need some 
 of my men to " 
 
 " I don't," says I, " and while you're mixin' it with 
 me you won't, either." 
 
 At that she shoos 'em all out and shuts the door. I 
 opens the window so's to get in some air that ain't 
 been strained and currycombed and scented with 
 violets, and then we starts to throw the shot bag 
 
 15
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 around. I find Fletcher is short winded and soft. 
 He's got a bad liver and a worse heart, for five or six 
 years' trainin' on wealthy water and pate de foie gras 
 hasn't done him any good. Inside of ten minutes he 
 knows just how punky he is himself, and he's ready 
 to follow any directions I lay down. 
 
 As I'm leavin', a nice, slick haired young feller calls 
 me over and hands me an old rose tinted check. It 
 was for five hundred and twenty. 
 
 " Fifty-two minutes, professor," says he. 
 
 " Oh, let that pyramid," says I, tossin' it back. 
 
 Honest, I never shied so at money before, but some- 
 how takin' that went against the grain. Maybe it was 
 the way it was shoved at me. 
 
 I'd kind of got interested in the job of puttin' 
 Dawes on his feet, though, and Thursday I goes up 
 for another session. Just as I steps off the elevator 
 at his floor I hears a scuffle, and out comes a couple 
 of the baby blue bunch, shoving along an old party 
 with her bonnet tilted over one ear. I gets a view of 
 her face, though, and I sees she's a nice, decent lookin' 
 old girl, that don't seem to be either tanked or batty, 
 but just kind of scared. A Willie boy in a frock coat 
 was followin' along behind, and as they gets to me he 
 steps up, grabs her by the arm, and snaps out : 
 
 " Now you leave quietly, or I'll hand you over to the 
 police ! Understand ? " 
 
 16
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 That scares her worse than ever, and she rolls her 
 eyes up to me in that pleadin' way a dog has when 
 he's been hurt 
 
 " Hear that ? " says one of the baby blues, shakin' 
 her up. 
 
 My fingers went into bunches as sudden as if I'd 
 touched a live wire, but I keeps my arms down. " Ah, 
 say ! " says I. " I don't see any call for the station- 
 house drag out just yet. Loosen up there a bit, will 
 you?" 
 
 " Mind your business ! " says one of 'em, givin' me 
 the glary eye. 
 
 " Thanks," says I. " I was waitin' for an invite," 
 and I reaches out and gets a shut-off grip on their 
 necks. It didn't take 'em long to loosen up after that. 
 
 " Here, here ! " says the Willie that I'd spotted for 
 Corson. "Oh, it's you is it, professor?" 
 
 " Yes, it's me," says I, still holdin' the pair at arms' 
 length. "What's the row?" 
 
 " Why," says Corson, " this old woman " 
 
 " Lady," says I. 
 
 " Aw er yes," says he. " She insists on fawcing 
 her way in to see Mr. Dawes." 
 
 " Well," says I, " she ain't got no bag of dynamite, 
 or anything like that, has she ? " 
 
 " I just wanted a word with Fletcher," says she, 
 buttin' in "just a word or two." 
 
 17
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Friend of yours ? " says I. 
 
 " Why Well, we have known each other for 
 forty years," says she. 
 
 " That ought to pass you in," says I. 
 
 " But she refuses to give her name," says Corson. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Maria Dawes," says she, holdin' her 
 chin up and lookin' him straight between the eyes. 
 
 " You're not on the list," says Corson. 
 
 " List be blowed ! " says I. " Say, you peanut head, 
 can't you see this is some relation? You ought to 
 have sense enough to get a report from the boss, before 
 you carry out this quick bounce business. Perhaps 
 you're puttin' your foot in it, son." 
 
 Then Corson weakens, and the old lady throws me 
 a look that was as good as a vote of thanks. And 
 say, when she'd straightened her lid and pulled herself 
 together, she was as ladylike an old party as you'd 
 want to meet. There wa'n't much style about her, 
 but she was dressed expensive enough furs, and silks, 
 and sparks in her ears. Looked like one of the sort 
 that had been up against a long run of hard luck and 
 had come through without gettin' sour. 
 
 While we was arguin', in drifts Mr. Dawes himself. 
 I gets a glimpse of his face when he first spots the 
 old girl, and if ever I see a mouth shut like a safe 
 door, and a jaw stiffen as if it had turned to concrete, 
 his did. 
 
 18
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 " What does this mean, Maria ? " he says between 
 his teeth. 
 
 " I couldn't help it } Fletcher," says she. " I wanted 
 to see you about little Bertie." 
 
 " Huh ! " grunts Fletcher. " Well, step in this way. 
 McCabe, you can come along too." 
 
 I wa'n't stuck on the way it was said, and didn't 
 hanker for mixin' up with any such reunions; but it 
 didn't look like Maria had any too many friends handy, 
 so I trots along. When we're shut in, with the dra- 
 peries pulled, Mr. Dawes plants his feet solid, shoves 
 his hands down into his pockets, and looks Maria over 
 careful. 
 
 " Then you have lost the address of my attorneys ? " 
 says he, real frosty. 
 
 That don't chill Maria at all. She acted like she 
 was used to it. " No," says she ; " but I'm tired of 
 talking to lawyers. I couldn't tell them about Bertie, 
 and how lonesome I've been without him these last 
 two years. Can't I have him, Fletcher ? " 
 
 About then I begins to get a glimmer of what it 
 was all about, and by the time she'd gone on for four 
 or five minutes I had the whole story. Maria was the 
 ex-Mrs. Fletcher Dawes. Little Bertie was a grand- 
 son; and grandma wanted Bertie to come and live 
 with her in the big Long Island place that Fletcher 
 had handed her when he swapped her off for one 
 
 19
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 of the sextet, and settled up after the decree was 
 granted. 
 
 Hearin' that brought the whole thing back, for the 
 papers printed pages about the Daweses; rakin' up 
 everything, from the time Fletcher run a grocery store 
 and lodgin' house out to Butte, and Maria helped him 
 sell flour and canned goods, besides makin' beds, and 
 jugglin' pans, and takin' in washin' on the side; to 
 the day Fletcher euchred a prospector out of the mine 
 that gave him his start. 
 
 "You were satisfied with the terms of the settle- 
 ment, when it was made/' says Mr. Dawes. 
 
 " I know," says she ; " but I didn't think how badly 
 I should miss Bertie. That is an awful big house over 
 there, and I am getting to be an old woman now, 
 Fletcher." 
 
 " Yes, you are," says he, his mouth corners liftin' 
 a little. " But Bertie's in school, where he ought to 
 be and where he is going to stay. Anything more ? " 
 
 I looks at Maria. Her upper lip was wabblin' some, 
 but that's all. " No, Fletcher," says she. " I shall go 
 now." 
 
 She was just about startin', when there's music on 
 the other side of the draperies. It sounds like Corson 
 was havin' his troubles with another female. Only 
 this one had a voice like a brass cornet, and she was 
 usin' it too. 
 
 20
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 " Why can't I go in there ? " says she. " I'd like 
 to know why! Eh, what's that? A woman in 
 there?" 
 
 And in she comes. She was a pippin, all right. As 
 she yanks back the curtain and rushes in she looks 
 about as friendly as a spotted leopard that's been 
 stirred up with an elephant hook; but when she sizes 
 up the comp'ny that's present she cools off and lets 
 go a laugh that gives us an iv'ry display worth 
 seem". 
 
 " Oh ! " says she. " Fletchy, who's the old one ? " 
 
 Say, I expect Dawes has run into some mighty 
 worryin' scenes before now, havin' been indicted once 
 or twice and so on, but I'll bet he never bucked up 
 against the equal of this before. He opens his mouth 
 a couple of times, but there don't seem to be any 
 language on tap. The missus was ready, though. 
 
 " Maria Dawes is my name, my dear," says she. 
 
 " Maria ! " says the other one, lookin' some stag- 
 gered. "Why why, then you you're Number 
 One!" 
 
 Maria nods her head. 
 
 Then Fletcher gets his tongue out of tangle. 
 " Maria," says he, " this is my wife, Maizie." 
 
 " Yes ? " says Maria, as gentle as a summer night. 
 " I thought this must be Maizie. You're very young 
 and pretty, aren't you? I suppose you go about a 
 
 21
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 lot? But you must be careful of Fletcher. He always 
 was foolish about staying up too late, and eating things 
 that hurt him. I used to have to warn him against 
 black coffee and welsh rabbits. He will eat them, and 
 then he has one of his bad spells. Fletcher is fifty-six 
 now, you know, and " 
 
 " Maria ! " says Mr. Dawes, his face the colour of a 
 boiled beet, " that's enough of this foolishness ! 
 Here, Corson ! Show this lady out ! " 
 
 " Yes, I was just going, Fletcher," says she. 
 
 " Good-bye, Maria ! " sings out Maizie, and then lets 
 out another of her soprano ha-ha's, holdin' her sides 
 like she was tickled to death. Maybe it was funny 
 to her; it wa'n't to Fletcher. 
 
 " Come, McCabe," says he ; " we'll get to work." 
 
 Say, I can hold in about so long, and then I've got 
 to blow off or else bust a cylinder head. I'd had about 
 enough of this " Come, McCabe " business, too. " Say, 
 Fletchy," says I, " don't be in any grand rush. I 
 ain't so anxious to take you on as you seem to 
 think." 
 
 " What's that? " he spits out. 
 
 " You keep your ears open long enough and you'll 
 hear it all," says I ; for I was gettin' hotter an' hotter 
 under the necktie. " I just want to say that I've 
 worked up a grouch against this job durin' the last 
 few minutes. I guess I'll chuck it up." 
 
 22
 
 SHORTY AND THE PLUTE 
 
 That seemed to go in deep. Mr. Dawes, he brings 
 his eyes together until nothin' but the wrinkle keeps 
 'em apart, and he gets the hectic flush on his cheek 
 bones. " I don't understand," says he. 
 
 " This is where I quit," says I. " That's all." 
 
 " But," says he, " you must have some reason." 
 
 " Sure," says I ; " two of 'em. One's just gone out. 
 That's the other," and I jerks my thumb at Maizie. 
 
 She'd been rollin' her eyes from me to Dawes, and 
 from Dawes back to me. " What does this fellow 
 mean by that ? " says Maizie. " Fletcher, why don't 
 you have him thrown out ? " 
 
 " Yes, Fletcher," says I, " why don't you? I'd love 
 to be thrown out just now ! " 
 
 Someway, Fletcher wasn't anxious, although he had 
 lots of bouncers standin' idle within call. He just 
 stands there and looks at his toes, while Maizie tongue 
 lashes first me and then him. When she gets through 
 I picks up my hat. 
 
 " So long, Fletchy," says I. " What work I put 
 in on you the other day I'm goin' to make you a 
 present of. If I was you, I'd cash that check and 
 buy somethin' that would please Maizie." 
 
 " D'jer annex another five or six hundred up to the 
 Brasstonia this afternoon ? " asks Swifty, when I gets 
 back. 
 
 23
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Nix," says I. " All I done was to organise a wife 
 convention and get myself disliked. That ten-a- 
 minute deal is off. But say, Swifty, just remember 
 I've dodged makin' the bath rubber class, and I'm 
 satisfied at that"
 
 II 
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 SAY, who was tellin' you? Ah, g'wan! Them sea 
 shore press agents is full of fried eels. Disguises 
 nothin'! Them folks I has with me was the real 
 things. The Rev. Doc. Akehead? Not much. That 
 was my little old Bishop. And it wa'n't any slummin' 
 party at all. It was just a little errand of mercy that 
 got switched. 
 
 It was this way: The Bishop, he shows up at the 
 Studio for his reg'lar medicine ball work, that I'm 
 givin' him so's he can keep his equator from gettin' 
 the best of his latitude. That's all on the quiet, 
 though. It's somethin' I ain't puttin' on the bulletin 
 board, or includin' in my list of references, under- 
 stand ? 
 
 Well, we has had our half-hour session and the 
 Bishop has just made a break for the cold shower and 
 the dressin' room, while I'm preparin' to shed my 
 workin' clothes for the afternoon ; when in pops Swifty 
 Joe, closin' the gym. door behind him real soft and 
 mysterious. 
 
 " Shorty," says he in that hoarse whisper he gets on 
 when he's excited, " she's she's come ! " 
 
 25
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 "Who's come?" says I. 
 
 " S-s-sh ! " says he, wavin' his hands. " It's the old 
 girl ; and she's got a gun ! " 
 
 " Ah, say ! " says I. " Come out of the trance. 
 What old girl ? And what about the gun ? " 
 
 Maybe you've never seen Swifty when he's real 
 stirred up? He wears a corrugated brow, and his 
 lower jaw hangs loose, leavin' the Mammoth Cave 
 wide open, and his eyes bug out like shoe buttons. 
 His thoughts come faster than he can separate him- 
 self from the words ; so it's hard gettin' at just what 
 he means to say. But, as near as I can come to it, 
 there's a wide female party waitin' out in the front 
 office for me, with blood in her eye and a self cockin' 
 section of the unwritten law in her fist. 
 
 Course, I knows right off there must be some mis- 
 take, or else it's a case of dope, and I says so. But 
 Swifty is plumb sure she knew who she was askin' 
 for when she calls for me, and begs me not to go out. 
 He's for ringin' up the police. 
 
 " Ring up nobody ! " says I. " S'pose I want this 
 thing gettin' into the papers? If a Lady Bughouse 
 has strayed in here, we got to shoo her out as quiet as 
 possible. She can't shoot if we rush her. Come 
 on!" 
 
 I will say for Swifty Joe that, while he ain't got any 
 too much sense, there's no ochre streak in him. When 
 
 26
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 I pulls open the gym. door and gives the word, we 
 went through neck and neck. 
 
 " Look out ! " he yells, and I sees him makin' a 
 grab at the arm of a broad beamed old party, all done 
 up nicely in grey silk and white lace. 
 
 And say, it's lucky I got a good mem'ry for profiles ; 
 for if I hadn't seen right away it was Purdy Bligh's 
 Aunt Isabella, and that the gun was nothin' but her 
 silver hearin' tube, we might have been tryin' to 
 explain it to her yet. As it is, I'm just near enough to 
 make a swipe for Swifty's right hand with my left, and 
 I jerks his paw back just as she turns around from 
 lookin' out of the window and gets her lamps on us. 
 Say, we must have looked like a pair of batty ones, 
 standin' there holdin' hands and starin' at her ! But it 
 seems that folks as deaf as she is ain't easy surprised. 
 All she does is feel around her for her gold eye glasses 
 with one hand, and fit the silver hearin' machine to her 
 off ear with the other. It's one of these pepper box 
 affairs, and I didn't much wonder that Swifty took it 
 for a gun. 
 
 "Are you Professor McCabe?" says she. 
 
 " Sure ! " I hollers ; and Swifty, not lookin' for such 
 strenuous conversation, goes up in the air about two 
 feet. 
 
 " I beg pardon," says the old girl ; " but will you 
 kindly speak into the audiphone." 
 
 27
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 So I steps up closer, forgettin' that I still has the 
 clutch on Swifty, and drags him along. 
 
 " Ahr, chee ! " says Swifty. " This ain't no brother 
 act, is it?" 
 
 With that I lets him go, and me and Aunt Isabella 
 gets down to business. I was lookin' for some tale 
 about Purdy tell you about him some day but it 
 looks like this was a new deal; for she opens up 
 by askin' if I knew a party by the name of Dennis 
 .Whaley. 
 
 " Do I ? " says I. " I've known Dennis ever since 
 I can remember knowin' anybody. He's runnin' my 
 place out to Primrose Park now." 
 
 " I thought so," says Aunt Isabella. " Then per- 
 haps you know a niece of his, Margaret Whaley ? " 
 
 I didn't; but I'd heard of her. She's Terence 
 Whaley's girl, that come over from Skibbereen four 
 or five years back, after near starvin' to death one 
 wet season when the potato crop was so bad. Well, 
 it seems Maggie has worked a couple of years for 
 Aunt Isabella as kitchen girl. Then she's got am- 
 bitious, quit service, and got a flatwork job in a hand 
 laundry eight per, fourteen hours a day, Saturday 
 sixteen. 
 
 I didn't tumble why all this was worth chinnin' 
 about until Aunt Isabella reminds me that she's presi- 
 dent and board of directors of the Lady Pot Wrestlers' 
 
 28
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 Improvement Society. She's one of the kind that 
 spends her time tryin' to organise study classes for 
 hired girls who have different plans for spendin' their 
 Thursday afternoons off. 
 
 Seems that Aunt Isabella has been keepin' special 
 tabs on Maggie, callin' at the laundry to give her good 
 advice, and leavin' her books to read, which I got 
 a tintype of her readin', not, and otherwise doin' the 
 upliftin' act accordin' to rule. But along in the early 
 summer Maggie had quit the laundry without consult- 
 in' the old girl about it. Aunt Isabella kept on the 
 trail, though, run down her last boardin' place, and 
 begun writin' her what she called helpful letters. She 
 kept this up until she was handed the ungrateful jolt. 
 The last letter come back to her with a few remarks 
 scribbled across the face, indicatin' that readin' such 
 stuff gave Maggie a pain in the small of her back. 
 But the worst of it all was, accordin' to Aunt Isabella, 
 that Maggie was in Coney Island. 
 
 " Think of it ! " says she. " That poor, innocent 
 girl, living in that dreadfully wicked place! Isn't it 
 terrible?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," says I. " It all depends." 
 " Hey? " says the old girl. " What say? " 
 Ever try to carry on a debate through a silver salt 
 shaker? It's the limit. Thinkin' it would be a lot 
 easier to agree with her, I shouts out, " Sure thing I " 
 
 29
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 and nods my head. She nods back and rolls her 
 eyes. 
 
 " She must be rescued at once ! " says Aunt Isabella. 
 " Her uncle ought to be notified. Can't you send for 
 him?" 
 
 As it happens, Dennis had come down that morn- 
 in' to see an old friend of his that was due to croak ; 
 so I figures it out that the best way would be to get 
 him and the old lady together and let 'em have it out. 
 I chases Swifty down to West nth-st. to bring Dennis 
 back in a hurry, and invites Aunt Isabella to make her- 
 self comfortable until he comes. 
 
 She's too excited to sit down, though. She goes 
 pacin' around the front office, now and then lookin' 
 me over suspicious, me bein' still in my gym. suit, 
 and then sizin' up the sportin' pictures on the wall. 
 My art exhibit is mostly made up of signed photos 
 of Jeff and Fitz and Nelson in their ring costumes, 
 and it was easy to see she's some jarred. 
 
 " I hope this is a perfectly respectable place, young 
 m3n," says she. 
 
 " It ain't often pulled by the cops," says I. 
 
 Instead of calmin' her down, that seems to stir her 
 up worse'n ever. " I should hope not ! " says she. 
 " How long must I wait here ? " 
 
 " No longer'n you feel like waiting ma'am," 
 says I. 
 
 3P
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 And just then the gym. door opens, and in walks the 
 Bishop, that I'd clean forgot all about. 
 
 "Why, Bishop!" squeals Aunt Isabella. "You 
 here!" 
 
 Say, it didn't need any second sight to see that the 
 Bishop would have rather met 'most anybody else at 
 that particular minute; but he hands her the neat re- 
 turn. " It appears that I am," says he. " And 
 you?" 
 
 Well, it was up to her to do the explainin'. She 
 gives him the whole history of Maggie Whaley, wind- 
 in' up with how she's been last heard from at Coney 
 Island. 
 
 " Isn't it dreadful, Bishop? " says she. " And can't 
 you do something to help rescue her?" 
 
 Now I was lookin' for the Bishop to say somethin' 
 soothin'; but hanged if he don't chime in and admit 
 that it's a sad case and he'll do what he can to help. 
 
 About then Swifty shows up with Dennis, and Aunt 
 Isabella lays it before him. Now, accordin' to his 
 own account, Dennis and Terence always had it in 
 for each other at home, and he never took much stock 
 in Maggie, either. But after he'd listened to Aunt Isa- 
 bella for a few minutes, hearin' her talk about his duty 
 to the girl, and how she ought to be yanked off the 
 toboggan of sin, he takes it as serious as any of 'em. 
 
 "Wurrah, wurrahJ" says he, "but this do be a 
 31
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 black day for the Whaleys ! It's the McGuigan blood 
 comin' out in her. What's to be done, mum ? " 
 
 Aunt Isabella has a program all mapped out. Her 
 idea is to get up a rescue expedition on the spot, and 
 start for Coney. She says Dennis ought to go; for 
 he's Maggie's uncle and has got some authority; and 
 she wants the Bishop, to do any prayin' over her that 
 may be needed. 
 
 " As for me," says she, " I shall do my best to per- 
 suade her to leave her wicked companions." 
 
 Well, they was all agreed, and ready to start, when 
 it comes out that not one of the three has ever been 
 to the island in their lives, and don't know how to get 
 there. At that I sees the Bishop lookin' expectant 
 at me. 
 
 " Shorty," says he, " I presume you are somewhat 
 familiar with this er wicked resort ? " 
 
 " Not the one you're talkin' about," says I. " I've 
 been goin' to Coney every year since I was old enough 
 to toddle ; and I'll admit there has been seasons when 
 some parts of it was kind of tough ; but as a general 
 proposition it never looked wicked to me." 
 
 That kind of puzzles the Bishop. He says he's al- 
 ways understood that the island was sort of a vent hole 
 for the big sulphur works. Aunt Isabella is dead sure 
 of it too, and hints that maybe I ain't much of a judge. 
 Anyway, she thinks I'd be a good guide for a place of 
 
 32
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 that kind, and prods the Bishop on to urge me 
 to go. 
 
 " Well," says I, " just for a flier, I will." 
 
 So, as soon as I've changed my clothes, we starts 
 for the iron steamboats, and plants ourselves on the 
 upper deck. And say, we was a sporty lookin' bunch 
 I don't guess! There was the Bishop, in his little 
 flat hat and white choker, you couldn't mistake what 
 he was, and Aunt Isabella, with her grey hair and 
 her grey and white costume, lookin' about as giddy as 
 a marble angel on a tombstone. Then there's Dennis, 
 who has put on the black whip cord Prince Albert he 
 always wears when he's visitin' sick friends or attend- 
 in' funerals. The only festive lookin' point about him 
 was the russet coloured throat hedge he wears in place 
 of a necktie. 
 
 Honest, I felt sorry for them suds slingers that 
 travels around the deck singin' out, " Who wants the 
 waiter ? " Every time one would come our way he'd 
 
 get as far as " Who wants " and then he'd switcri 
 
 off with an " Ah, chee ! " and go away disgusted. 
 
 All the way down, the old girl has her eye out for 
 wickedness. The sight of Adolph, the grocery clerk, 
 dippin' his beak into a mug of froth, moves her to 
 sit up and give him the stony glare; while a glimpse 
 of a young couple snugglin' up against each other 
 along the rail almost gives her a spasm. 
 
 33
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Such brazen depravity ! " says she to the Bishop. 
 
 By the time we lands at the iron pier she has 
 knocked Coney so much that I has worked up a first 
 class grouch. 
 
 " Come on ! " says I. " Let's have Maggie's ad- 
 dress and get through with this rescue business before 
 all you good folks is soggy with sin." 
 
 Then it turns out she ain't got any address at all. 
 The most she knows is that Maggie's somewhere on 
 the island. 
 
 " Well," I shouts into the tube, " Coney's some- 
 thing of a place, you see ! What's your idea of findin' 
 her?" 
 
 " We must search," says Aunt Isabella, prompt and 
 decided. 
 
 " Mean to throw out a regular drag net? " says I. 
 
 She does. Well, say, if you've ever been to Coney 
 on a good day, when there was from fifty to a hun- 
 dred thousand folks circulatin' about, you've got some 
 notion of what a proposition of that kind means. 
 Course, I wa'n't goin to tackle the job with any hope 
 of gettin' away with it; but right there I'm struck with 
 a pleasin' thought. 
 
 " Do I gather that I'm to be the Commander Peary 
 of this expedition ? " says I. 
 
 It was a unanimous vote that I was. 
 
 " Well," says I, " you know you can't carry it 
 34
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 through on hot air. It takes coin to get past the gates 
 in this place." 
 
 Aunt Isabella says she's prepared to stand all the 
 expense. And what do you suppose she passes out? 
 A green five ! 
 
 " Ah, say, this ain't any Sunday school excursion," 
 says I. " Why, that wouldn't last us a block. Guess 
 you'll have to dig deeper or call it off." 
 
 She was game, though. She brings up a couple 
 of tens next dip, the Bishop adds two more, and I 
 heaves in one on my own hook. 
 
 " Now understand," says I, " if I'm headin' this 
 procession there mustn't be any hangin' back or argu- 
 in' about the course. Coney's no place for a quitter, 
 and there's some queer corners in it ; but we're lookin' 
 for a particular party, so we can't skip any. Follow 
 close, don't ask me fool questions, and everybody keep 
 their eye skinned for Maggie. Is that clear? " 
 
 They said it was. 
 
 " Then we're off in a bunch. This way ! " says I. 
 
 Say, it was almost too good to be true. I hadn't 
 more'n got 'em inside of Dreamland before they has 
 their mouths open and their eyes popped, and they was 
 so rattled they didn't know whether they was goin' up 
 or comin' down. The Bishop grabs me by the elbow^ 
 Aunt Isabella gets a desperate grip on his coat tails, 
 and Dennis hooks two fingers into the back of her belt. 
 
 35
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 When we lines up like that we has the fat woman tak- 
 in' her first camel ride pushed behind the screen. The 
 barkers out in front of the dime attractions takes one 
 look at us and loses their voices for a whole minute 
 and it takes a good deal to choke up one of them 
 human cyclones. I gives 'em back the merry grin and 
 blazes ahead. 
 
 First thing I sees that looks good is the wiggle- 
 waggle brass staircase, where half of the steps goes 
 up as the other comes down. 
 
 " Now, altogether ! " says I, f eedin' the coupons to 
 the ticket man, and I runs 'em up against the liver 
 restorer at top speed. Say that exhibition must have 
 done the rubbernecks good! First we was all jolted 
 up in a heap, then we was strung out like a yard of 
 frankfurters ; but I kept 'em at it until we gets to the 
 top. Aunt Isabella has lost her breath and her bonnet 
 has slid over one ear, the Bishop is red in the face, 
 and Dennis is puffin' like a freight engine. 
 
 " No Maggie here," says I. " We'll try somewhere 
 else." 
 
 No. 2 on the event card was the water chutes, and 
 while we was slidin' up on the escalator they has a 
 chance to catch their wind. They didn't get any 
 more'n they needed though ; for just as Aunt Isabella 
 has started to ask the platform man if he'd seen any- 
 thing of Maggie Whaley, a boat comes up on the cogs, 
 
 36
 
 THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS ? EM UP TO
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 and I yells for 'em to jump in quick. The next thing 
 they knew we was scootin' down that slide at the rate 
 of a hundred miles an hour, with three of us holdin' 
 onto our hats, and one lettin' out forty squeals to the 
 minute. 
 
 " O-o-o o-o-o ! " says Aunt Isabella, as we hits the 
 water and does the bounding bounce. 
 
 " That's right," says I ; " let 'em know you're here. 
 It's the style." 
 
 Before they've recovered from the chute ride I've 
 hustled 'em over to one of them scenic railroads, where 
 you're yanked up feet first a hundred feet or so, and 
 then shot down through painted canvas mountains for 
 about a mile. Say, it was a hummer, too! I don't 
 know what there is about travellin' fast ; but it always 
 warms up my blood, and about the third trip I feels 
 like sendin' out yelps of joy. 
 
 Course, I didn't expect it would have any such effect 
 on the Bishop; but as we went slammin' around a 
 sharp corner I gets a look at his face. And would 
 you believe it, he's wearin' a reg'lar breakfast food 
 grin ! Next plunge we take I hears a whoop from the 
 back seat, and I knows that Dennis has caught it, 
 too. 
 
 I was afraid maybe the old girl has fainted; but 
 when we brings up at the bottom and I has a chance 
 to turn around, I finds her still grippin' the car seat, 
 
 37
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 her feet planted firm, and a kind of wild, reckless look 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " We did that last lap a little rapid," says I. " May- 
 be we ought to cover the ground again, just to be sure 
 we didn't miss Maggie. How about repeatin' eh ? " 
 
 " I I wouldn't mind," says she. 
 
 " Good ! " says I. " Percy, send her off for an- 
 other spiel." 
 
 And we encores the performance, with Dennis givin' 
 the Donnybrook call, and the smile on the Bishop's 
 face growin' wider and wider. Fun ? I've done them 
 same stunts with a gang of real sporting men, and 
 never bad the half of it. 
 
 After that my crowd was ready for anything. They 
 forgets all about the original proposition, and tackles 
 anything I leads them up to, from bumpin' the bumps 
 to ridin' down in the tubs on the tickler. When we'd 
 got through with Dreamland and the Steeplechase, we 
 wanders down the Bowery and hits up some hot dog 
 and green corn rations. 
 
 By the time I gets ready to lead them across Surf- 
 ave. to Luna Park it was dark, and about a million 
 incandescents had been turned on. Well, you know 
 the kind of picture they gets their first peep at. Course, 
 it's nothin' but white stucco and gold leaf and electric 
 light, with the blue sky beyond. But say, first glimpse 
 you get, don't it knock your eye out ? " 
 
 38
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 " Whist ! " says Dennis, gawpin' up at the front like 
 he meant to swallow it. " Is ut the Blessed Gates 
 we're comin' to ? " 
 
 " Magnificent ! " says the Bishop. 
 
 And just then Aunt Isabella gives a gasp and sings 
 out, "Maggie!" 
 
 Well, as Dennis says afterwards, in tellin' Mother 
 Whaley about it, " Glory be, would yez think ut ? I 
 hears her spake thot name, and up I looks, and as 
 I'm a breathin' man, there sits Maggie Whaley in a 
 solid goold chariot all stuck with jools, her hair puffed 
 out like a crown, and the very neck of her blazin' with 
 pearls and di'monds. Maggie Whaley, mind ye, the 
 own daughter of Terence, that's me brother ; and her 
 the boss of a place as big as the houses of parli'ment 
 and finer than Windsor castle on the King's birthday ! " 
 
 It was Maggie all right. She was sittin' in a chariot 
 too you've seen them fancy ticket booths they has 
 down to Luna. And she has had her hair done up by 
 an upholsterer, and put through a crimpin' machine. 
 That and the Brazilian near-gem necklace she wears 
 does give her a kind of a rich and fancy look, provid- 
 in' you don't get too close. 
 
 She wasn't exactly bossin' the show. She was sell- 
 in' combination tickets, that let you in on so many 
 rackets for a dollar. She'd chucked the laundry job 
 for this, and she was lookin' like she was glad she'd 
 
 39
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 made the shift. But here was four of us who'd come 
 to rescue her and lead her back to the ironin' board. 
 
 Aunt Isabella makes the first break. She tells 
 Maggie who she is and why she's come. " Margaret," 
 says she, " I do hope you will consent to leave this 
 wicked life. Please say you will, Margaret ! " 
 
 " Ah, turn it off ! " says Maggie. " Me back to the 
 sweat box at eight per when I'm gettin' fourteen for 
 this ? Not on your ping pongs ! Fade, Aunty, fade ! " 
 
 Then the Bishop is pushed up to take his turn. He 
 says he is glad to meet Maggie, and hopes she likes 
 her new job. Maggie says she does. She lets out, 
 too, that she's engaged to the gentleman what does a 
 refined acrobatic specialty in the third attraction on 
 the left, and that when they close in the fall he's 
 goin' to coach her up so's they can do a double turn in 
 the continuous houses next winter at from sixty to 
 seventy-five per, each. So if she ever irons another 
 shirt, it'll be just to show that she ain't proud. 
 
 And that's where the rescue expedition goes out of 
 business with a low, hollow plunk. Among the three 
 of 'em not one has a word left to say. 
 
 "Well, folks," says I, "what are we here for? 
 Shall we finish the evenin' like we begun ? We're only 
 alive once, you know, and this is the only Coney there 
 is. How about it?" 
 
 Did we? Inside of two minutes Maggie has sold 
 40
 
 ROUNDING UP MAGGIE 
 
 us four entrance tickets, and we're headed for the big- 
 gest and wooziest thriller to be found in the lot. 
 
 " Shorty," says the Bishop, as we settles ourselves 
 for a ride home on the last boat, " I trust I have done 
 nothing unseemly this evening." 
 
 " What ! You ? " says I. " Why, Bishop, you're a 
 reg'lar ripe old sport ; and any time you feel like cuttin' 
 loose again, with Aunt Isabella or without, just send 
 in a call for me."
 
 Ill 
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 SAY, where's Palopinto, anyway? Well neither did 
 I. It's somewhere around Dallas, but that don't help 
 me any. Texas, eh ? You sure don't mean it ! Why, 
 I thought there wa'n't nothin' but one night stands 
 down there. But this Palopinto ain't in that class at 
 all. Not much! It's a real torrid proposition. No, 
 I ain't been there; but I've been up against Bentley, 
 who has. 
 
 He wa'n't mine, to begin with. I got him second 
 hand. You see, he come along just as I was havin' 
 a slack spell. Mr. Gordon yes, Pyramid Gordon 
 he calls up on the 'phone and says he's in a hole. 
 Seems he's got a nephew that's comin' on from some- 
 where out West to take a look at New York, and needs 
 some one to keep him from fallin' off Brooklyn Bridge. 
 
 " How's he travelling" says I ; " tagged, in care of 
 the conductor? " 
 
 " Oh, no," says Mr. Gordon. " He's about twenty- 
 two, and able to take care of himself anywhere except 
 in a city like this." Then he wants to know how I'm 
 fixed for time. 
 
 " I got all there is on the clock," says I. 
 42
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 "And would you be willing to try keeping Bentley 
 out of mischief until I get back ? " says he. 
 
 " Sure as ever," says I. " I don't s'pose he's any 
 holy terror ; is he ? " 
 
 Pyramid said he wa'n't quite so bad as that. He 
 told me that Bentley'd been brought up on a big cattle 
 ranch out there, and that now he was boss. 
 
 " He's been making a lot of money recently, too," 
 says Mr. Gordon, " and he insists on a visit East. 
 Probably he will want to let New York know that he 
 has arrived, but you hold him down." 
 
 " Oh, I'll keep him from liftin' the lid, all right," 
 says I. 
 
 " That's the idea, Shorty," says he. " I'll write a 
 note telling him all about you, and giving him a few 
 suggestions." 
 
 I had a synopsis of Bentley's time card, so as soon's 
 he'd had a chance to open up his trunk and wash off 
 some of the car dust I was waitin' at the desk in the 
 Waldorf. 
 
 Now of course, bein' warned ahead, and hearin' 
 about this cattle ranch business, I was lookin' for a 
 husky boy in a six inch soft-brim and leather pants. 
 I'd calculated on havin' to persuade him to take off his 
 spurs and leave his guns with the clerk. 
 
 But what steps out of the elevator and answers to 
 the name of Bentley is a Willie boy that might have 
 
 43
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 blown in from Asbury Park or Far Rockaway. He 
 was draped in a black and white checked suit that you 
 could broil a steak on, with the trousers turned up 
 so's to show the openwork silk socks, and the coat 
 creased up the sides like it was made over a cracker 
 box. His shirt was a MacGregor plaid, and the band 
 around his Panama was a hand width Roman stripe. 
 
 " Gee ! " thinks I, " if that's the way cow boys dress 
 nowadays, no wonder there's scandals in the beef 
 business ! " 
 
 But if you could forget his clothes long enough to 
 size up what was in 'em, you could see that Bentley 
 was a mild enough looker. There's lots of bank mes- 
 sengers and brokers' clerks just like him comin' over 
 from Brooklyn and. Jersey every mornin'. He was 
 about five feet eight, and skimpy built, and he had one 
 of these recedin' faces that looked like it was tryin' to 
 get away from his nose. 
 
 But then, it ain't always the handsome boys that 
 behaves the best, and the more I got acquainted with 
 Bentley, the better I thought of him. He said he was 
 mighty glad I showed up instead of Mr. Gordon. 
 
 " Uncle Henry makes me weary," says he. " I've 
 just been reading a letter from him, four pages, and 
 most of it was telling me what not to do. And this 
 the first time I was ever in New York since I've been 
 old enough to remember ! " 
 
 44
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 " You'd kind of planned to see things, eh ? " says I. 
 
 " Why, yes," says Bentley. " There isn't much ex- 
 citement out on the ranch, you know. Of course, we 
 ride into Palopinto once or twice a month, and some- 
 times take a run up to Dallas ; but that's not like get- 
 ting to New York." 
 
 " No/' says I. " I guess you're able to tell the dif- 
 ference between this burg and them places you men- 
 tion, without lookin' twice. What is Dallas, a water 
 tank stop?" 
 
 " It's a little bigger'n that," says he, kind of 
 smilin'. 
 
 But he was a nice, quiet actin' youth; didn't talk 
 loud, nor go through any tough motions. I see right 
 off that I'd been handed the wrong set of specifications, 
 and I didn't lose any time framin' him up accordin' 
 to new lines. I knew his kind like a book. You could 
 turn him loose in New York for a week, and the most 
 desperate thing he'd find to do would be smokin' 
 cigarettes on the back seat of a rubberneck waggon. 
 And yet he'd come all the way from the jumpin' off 
 place to have a little innocent fun. 
 
 " Uncle Henry wrote me," says he, " that while I'm 
 here I'd better take in the Metropolitan Museum of 
 Art, and visit St. Patrick's Cathedral and Grant's 
 Tomb. But say, I'd like something a little livelier 
 than that, you know." 
 
 45
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 He was so mild about it that I works up enough 
 sympathy to last an S. P. C. A. president a year. I 
 could see just what he was achin' for. It wa'n't a 
 sight of oil paintin's or churches. He wanted to be 
 able to go back among the flannel shirts and tell the 
 boys tales that would make their eyes stick out. He 
 was ambitious to go on a regular cut up, but didn't 
 know how, and wouldn't have had the nerve to tackle 
 it alone if he had known. 
 
 Now, I ain't ever done any red light pilotin', and 
 didn't have any notion of beginnin' then, especially 
 with a youngster as nice and green as Bentley; but 
 right there and then I did make up my mind that I'd 
 steer him up against somethin' more excitin' than a 
 front view of Grace Church at noon. It was comin' 
 to him. 
 
 " See here, Bentley," says I, " I've passed my word 
 to kind of look after you, and keep you from rippin' 
 things up the back here in little old New York; but 
 seein' as this is your first whack at it, if you'll promise 
 to stop when I say ' Whoa ! ' and not let on about it 
 afterwards to your Uncle Henry, I'll just show you 
 a few things that they don't have out West," and I 
 winks real mysterious. 
 
 " Oh, will you ? " says Bentley. " By ginger ! I'm 
 your man ! " 
 
 So we starts out lookin' for the menagerie. It was 
 46
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 all I could do, though, to keep my eyes off'm that 
 trousseau of his. 
 
 " They don't build clothes like them in Palopinto, 
 do they ? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, no," says Bentley. " I stopped off in Chicago 
 and got this outfit. I told them I didn't care what it 
 cost, but I wanted the latest." 
 
 "I guess you got it," says I. "That's what I'd 
 call a night edition, base ball extra. You mustn't 
 mind folks giraffin' at you. They always do that to 
 strangers." 
 
 Bentley didn't mind. Fact is, there wa'n't much 
 that did seem to faze him a whole lot. He'd never 
 rode in the subway before, of course, but he went to 
 readin' the soaps ads just as natural as if he lived in 
 Harlem. I expect that was what egged me on to 
 try and get a rise out of him. You see, when they 
 come in from the rutabaga fields and the wheat 
 orchards, we want 'em to open their mouths and gawp. 
 If they do, we give 'em the laugh; but if they don't, 
 we feel like they was throwin' down the place. So I 
 lays out to astonish Bentley. 
 
 First I steers him across Mulberry Bend and into 
 a Pell-st. chop suey joint that wouldn't be runnin* 
 at all if it wa'n't for the Sagadahoc and Elmira folks 
 the two dollar tourin' cars bring down. With all the 
 Chinks gabblin' around outside, though, and the funny 
 
 47,
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 letterin' on the bill of fare, I thought that would stun 
 him some. He just looked around casual, though, 
 and laid into his suey and rice like it was a plate of 
 ham-and, not even askin' if he couldn't buy a pair of 
 chopsticks as a souvenir. 
 
 " There's a bunch of desperate characters," says I, 
 pointin' to a table where a gang of Park Row com- 
 positors was blowin' themselves to a platter of chow- 
 ghi-sumen. 
 
 "Yes?" says he. 
 
 " There's Chuck Connors, and Mock Duck, and Bill 
 the Brute, and One Eyed Mike ! " I whispers. 
 
 " I'm glad I saw them," says Bentley. 
 
 " We'll take a sneak before the murderin' begins," 
 say I. " Maybe you'll read about how many was 
 killed, in the mornin' papers." 
 
 " I'll look for it," says he. 
 
 Say, it was discouragin'. We takes the L up to 
 23rd and goes across and up the east side of Madison 
 Square. 
 
 "There," says I, pointin' out the Manhattan Club, 
 that's about as lively as the Subtreasury on a Sun- 
 day, " that's Canfield's place. We'd go in and see 'em 
 buck the tiger, only I got a tip that Bingham's goin' 
 to pull it to-night. That youngster in the straw hat 
 just goin' in is Reggie." 
 
 "Well, well! "says Bentley. 
 48
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 Oh, I sure did show Bentley a lot of sights that 
 evenin', includin' a wild tour through the Tenderloin 
 in a Broadway car. We winds up at a roof garden, 
 and, just to give Bentley an extra shiver, I asks the 
 waiter if we wa'n't sittin' somewhere near the table 
 that Harry and Evelyn had the night he was overcome 
 by emotional insanity. 
 
 " You're at the very one, sir," he says. Considerin' 
 we was ten blocks away, he was a knowin' waiter. 
 
 " This identical table ; hear that, Bentley ? " says I. 
 
 " You don't say ! " says he. 
 
 " Let's have a bracer," says I. " Ever drink a soda 
 cocktail, Bentley ? " 
 
 He said he hadn't. 
 
 " Then bring us two, real stiff ones," says I. You 
 know how they're made a dash of bitters, a spoonful 
 of bicarbonate, and a bottle of club soda, all stirred 
 up in a tall glass, almost as intoxicatin' as buttermilk. 
 
 " Don't make your head dizzy, does it ? " says I. 
 
 " A little," says Bentley ; " but then, I'm not used to 
 mixed drinks. We take root beer generally } when 
 we're out on a tear." 
 
 " You cow boys must be a fierce lot when you're 
 loose," says I. 
 
 Bentley grinned, kind of reminiscent. " We do 
 raise the Old Harry once in awhile," says he. " The 
 last time we went up to Dallas I drank three different 
 
 49
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 kinds of soda water, and we guyed a tamale peddler 
 so that a policeman had to speak to us." 
 
 Say! what do you think of that? Wouldn't that 
 freeze your blood? 
 
 Once I got him started, Bentley told me a lot about 
 life on the ranch; how they had to milk and curry 
 down four thousand steers every night; and about 
 their playin' checkers at the Y. M. C. A. branch even- 
 in's, and throwin' spit balls at each other durin' morn- 
 in' prayers. I'd always thought these stage cow boys 
 was all a pipe dream, but I never got next to the real 
 thing before. 
 
 It was mighty intefestin', the way he told it, too. 
 They get prizes for bein' polite to each other durin' 
 work hours, and medals for speakin' gentle to the cows. 
 Bentley said he had four of them medals, but he hadn't 
 worn 'em East for fear folks would think he was 
 proud. That gave me a line on where he got his quiet 
 ways from. It was the trainin' he got on the ranch. 
 He said it was grand, too, when a crowd of the boys 
 came ridin' home from town, sometimes as late as 
 eleven o'clock at night, to hear 'em singin' " Onward, 
 Christian Soldier " and tunes like that. 
 
 " I expect you do have a few real tough citizens out 
 that way, though," says I. 
 
 " Yes," said he, speakin' sad and regretful, " once in 
 awhile. There was one came up from Las Vegas last 
 
 50
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 Spring, a low fellow that they called Santa Fe Bill. 
 He tried to start a penny ante game, but we discour- 
 aged him." 
 
 "Run him off the reservation, eh?" says I. 
 
 " No," says Bentley, " we made him give up his 
 ticket to our annual Sunday school picnic. He was 
 never the same after that." 
 
 Well, say, I had it on the card to blow Bentley to 
 a Welsh rabbit after the show, at some place where 
 he could get a squint at a bunch of our night bloom- 
 in' summer girls, but I changed the program. I took 
 him away durin' intermission, in time to dodge the 
 new dancer that Broadway was tryin' hard to be 
 shocked by, and after we'd had a plate of ice cream in 
 one of them celluloid papered all-nights, I led Bentley 
 back to the hotel and tipped a bell hop a quarter to 
 tuck him in bed. 
 
 Somehow, I didn't feel just right about the way I'd 
 been stringin' Bentley. I hadn't started out to do it, 
 either ; but he took things in so easy, and was so will- 
 in' to stand for anything, that I couldn't keep from it. 
 And it did seem a shame that he must go back with- 
 out any tall yarns to spring. Honest, I was so twisted 
 up in my mind, thinkin' about Bentley, that I couldn't 
 go to sleep, so I sat out on the front steps of the board- 
 in' house for a couple of hours, chewin' it all over. I 
 was just thinkin' of telephonin' to the hotel chaplain to 
 
 51
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 call on Bentley in the mornin', when me friend Barney, 
 the rounds, comes along. 
 
 " Say, Shorty," says he, " didn't I see you driftin' 
 around town earlier in the evenin' with a young sport 
 in mornin' glory clothes ? " 
 
 " He was no sport," says I. " That was Bentley. 
 He's a Y. M. C. A. lad in disguise." 
 
 " It's a grand disguise," says Barney. " Your quiet 
 friend is sure livin' up to them clothes." 
 
 " You're kiddin'," says I. " It would take a live one 
 to do credit to that harness. When I left Bentley at 
 half-past ten he was in the elevator on his way up to 
 bed." 
 
 " I don't want to meet any that's more alive than 
 your Bentley," says he. " There must have been a hole 
 in the roof. Anyway, he shows up on my beat about 
 eleven, picks out a swell cafe, butts into a party of 
 soubrettes, flashes a thousand dollar bill, and begins to 
 buy wine for everyone in sight. Inside of half an 
 hour he has one of his new made lady friends doin' a 
 high kickin' act on the table, and when the manager 
 interferes Bentley licks two waiters to a standstill and 
 does up the house detective with a chair. Why, I has 
 to get two of my men to help me gather him in. You 
 can find him restin' around to the station house now." 
 
 " Barney," says I, " you must be gettin' colour blind. 
 That can't be Bentley." 
 
 52
 
 UP AGAINST BENTLEY 
 
 " You go around and take a look at him," says he. 
 
 Well, just to satisfy Barney, I did. And say, it 
 was Bentley, all right! He was some mussed, but 
 calm and contented. 
 
 " Bentley," says I, reprovin' like, " you're a bird, 
 you are! How did it happen? Did some one drug 
 you?" 
 
 " Guess that ice cream must have gone to my head," 
 says he, grinnin'. 
 
 " Come off ! " says I. " I've had a report on you, 
 and from what you've got aboard you ought to be as 
 full as a goat." 
 
 He wa'n't, though. He was as sober as me, and that 
 after absorbin' a quart or so of French foam. 
 
 " If I can fix it so's to get you out on bail," says I, 
 " will you quit this red paint business and be good ? " 
 
 " G'wan ! " says he. " I'd rather stay here than go 
 around with you any more. You put me asleep, you 
 do, and I can get all the sleep I want without a guide. 
 Chase yourself ! " 
 
 I was some sore on Bentley by that time ; but I went 
 to court the next mornin', when he paid his fine and 
 was turned adrift. I starts in with some good advice, 
 but Bentley shuts me off quick. 
 
 " Cut it out ! " says he. " New York may seem 
 like a hot place to Rubes like you ; but you can take it 
 from me that, for a pure joy producer, Palopinto has 
 
 53
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 got it burned to a blister. Why, there's more doing 
 on some of our back streets than you can show up on 
 the whole length of Broadway. No more for me I 
 I'm goin' back where I can spend my money and have 
 my fun without bein' stopped and asked to settle before 
 I've hardly got started." 
 
 He was dead in earnest, too. He'd got on a train 
 headed West before I comes out of my dream. Then 
 I begins to see a light. It was a good deal of a shock 
 to me when it did come, but I has to own up that 
 Bentley was a ringer. All that talk about mornin' 
 prayers and Sunday school picnics was just dope, and 
 while I was so busy dealin' out josh to him, he was 
 handin' me the lemon. 
 
 My mouth was still puckered and my teeth on edge, 
 when Mr. Gordon gets me on the 'phone and wants to 
 know how about Bentley. 
 
 " He's come and gone," says I. 
 
 " So soon ? " says he. " I hope New York wasn't 
 too much for him." 
 
 " Not at all," says I ; "he was too much for New 
 York. But while you was givin' him instructions, why 
 didn't you tell him to make a noise like a hornet? It 
 might have saved me from bein' stung." 
 
 Texas, eh? Well, say, next time I sees a map of 
 that State I'm goin' to hunt up Palopinto and draw a 
 ring around it with purple ink. 
 
 54
 
 WHAT I was after was a souse in the Sound; but 
 say, I never know just what's goin' to happen to me 
 when I gets to roamin' around Westchester County ! 
 
 I'd started out from Primrose Park to hoof it over 
 to a little beach a ways down shore, when along comes 
 Dominick with his blue dump cart. Now, Dominick's 
 a friend of mine, and for a foreigner he's the most 
 entertainin' cuss I ever met. I like talkin' with him. 
 He can make the English language sound more like a 
 lullaby than most of your high priced opera singers; 
 and as for bein' cheerful, why, he's got a pair of eyes 
 like sunny days. 
 
 Course, he wears rings in his ears, and likely a seven 
 inch knife down the back of his neck. He ain't per- 
 fumed with violets either, when you get right close 
 to; but the ash collectin' business don't call for peau 
 d'Espagne, does it? 
 
 "Hallo!" says Dominick. "You lika ride?" 
 
 Well, I can't say I'm stuck on bein' bounced around 
 in an ash chariot ; but I knew Dominick meant well, so 
 in I gets. We'd been joltin' along for about four 
 
 55
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 blocks, swappin' pigeon toed conversation, when there 
 shows up on the road behind us the fanciest rig I've 
 seen outside of a circus. In front, hitched up tandem, 
 was a couple of black and white patchwork ponies that 
 looked like they'd broke out of a sportin' print. Say, 
 with their shiny hoofs and yeller harness, it almost 
 made your eyes ache to look at 'em. But the buggy 
 was part of the picture, too. It was the dizziest ever 
 just a couple of upholstered settees, balanced back 
 to back on a pair of rubber tired wheels, with the whole 
 shootin' match, cushions and all, a blazin' turkey red. 
 
 On the nigh side was a coachman, with his bandy 
 legs cased in white pants and yeller topped boots ; and 
 on the other well, say ! you talk about your polka dot 
 symphonies ! Them spots was as big as quarters, and 
 those in the parasol matched the ones in her dress. 
 
 I'd been gawpin' at the outfit a couple of minutes 
 before I could see anything but the dots, and then all 
 of a sudden I tumbles that it's Sadie. She finds me 
 about the same time, and jabs her sun shade into the 
 small of the driver's back, to make him pull up. I 
 tells Dominick to haul in, too, but his old skate is on 
 his hind legs, with his ears pointed front, wakin' up for 
 the first time in five years, so I has to drop out over the 
 tail board. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of the rig?" says Sadie. 
 
 " I guess me and Dominick's old crow bait has about 
 56
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 the same thoughts along that line," says I. " Can 
 you blame us ? " 
 
 " It is rather giddy, isn't it ? " says she. 
 
 " 'Most gave me the blind staggers," says I. " You 
 ought to distribute smoked glasses along the route of 
 procession. Did you buy it some dark night, or was 
 it made to order after somethin' you saw in a 
 dream ? " 
 
 " The idea ! " says Sadie. " This jaunting car is 
 one I had sent over from Paris, to help my ponies 
 get a blue ribbon at the Hill'n'dale horse show. And 
 that's what it did, too." 
 
 " Blue ribbon ! " says I. " The judges must have 
 been colour blind." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," says Sadie, stickin' her tongue 
 out at me. "After that I've a good notion to make 
 you walk." 
 
 " I don't know as I'd have nerve enough to ride 
 in that, anyway," says I. " Is it a funeral you're 
 goin' to?" 
 
 " Next thing to it," says she. " But come on, 
 Shorty; get aboard and I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 So I steps up alongside the spotted silk, and the 
 driver lets the ponies loose. Say, it was like ridin' 
 sideways in a roller coaster. 
 
 Sadie said she was awful glad to see me just then. 
 She had a job on hand that she hated to do, and she 
 
 57
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 needed some one to stand in her corner and cheer her 
 up while she tackled it. Seems she'd got rash a few 
 days before and made a promise to lug the Duke and 
 Duchess of Kildee over to call on the Wigghorns. 
 Sadie'd been actin' as sort of advance agent for Their 
 Dukelets durin' their splurge over here, and Mrs. 
 Wigghorn had mesmerised her into makin' a date for 
 a call. This was the day. 
 
 It would have gone through all right if some one 
 hadn't put the Duke wise to what he was up against. 
 Maybe you know about the Wigghorns? Course, 
 they've got the goods, for about a dozen years ago 
 old Wigghorn choked a car patent out of some poor 
 inventor, and his bank account's been pyramidin' so 
 fast ever since that now he's in the eight figure class ; 
 but when it comes to bein' in the monkey dinner 
 crowd, they ain't even counted as near-silks. 
 
 " Why," says Sadie, " I've heard that they have 
 their champagne standing in rows on the sideboard, 
 and that they serve charlotte russe for breakfast ! " 
 
 " That's an awful thing to repeat," says I. 
 
 " Oh, well," says she, " Mrs. Wigghorn's a good 
 natured soul, and I do think the Duke might have 
 stood her for an afternoon. He wouldn't though, and 
 now I've got to go there and call it off, just as she's 
 got herself into her diamond stomacher, probably, to 
 receive them." 
 
 58
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 " You couldn't ring in a couple of subs ? " says I. 
 
 For a minute Sadie's blue eyes lights up like I'd 
 passed her a plate of peach ice cream. " If I only 
 could ! " says she. Then she shakes her head. " No," 
 she says, " I should hate to lie. And, anyway, there's 
 no one within reach who could play their parts." 
 
 " That bein' the case," says I, " it looks like you'd 
 have to go ahead and break the sad news. What do 
 you want me to do hold a bucket for the tears ? " 
 
 Sadie said all she expected of me was to help her 
 forget it afterwards ; so we rolls along towards Wigg- 
 horn Arms. We'd got within a mile of there when 
 we meets a Greek peddler with a bunch of toy balloons 
 on his shoulder, and in less'n no time at all them 
 crazy-quilt ponies was tryin' to do back somersaults 
 and other fool stunts. In the mix up one of 'em rips 
 a shoe almost off, and Mr. Coachman says he'll have 
 to chase back to a blacksmith shop and have it glued 
 on. 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " says Sadie. " Well, hurry up about 
 it. We'll walk along as far as Apawattuck Inn and 
 wait there." 
 
 It wa'n't much of a walk. The Apawattuck's a 
 place where they deal out imitation shore dinners to 
 trolley excursionists, and fusel oil high balls to the 
 bubble trade. The name sounds well enough, but that 
 ain't satisfyin' when you're real hungry. We were 
 
 59
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 only killin' time, though, so it didn't matter. We 
 strolled up just as fearless as though their clam chow- 
 ders was fit to eat. 
 
 And that's what fetched us up against the Tortonis. 
 They was well placed, at a corner veranda table where 
 no one could miss seein' 'em ; and, as they'd just 
 finished a plate of chicken salad and a pint of genuine 
 San Jose claret, they was lookin' real comfortable and 
 elegant. 
 
 Say, to see the droop eyed way they sized us up 
 as we makes our entry, you'd think they was so tired 
 doin' that sort of thing that life was hardly worth 
 while. You'd never guess they'd been livin' in a hall 
 bed room on crackers and bologna ever since the sea- 
 son closed, and that this was their first real feed of 
 the summer, on the strength of just havin' been booked 
 for fifty performances. He was wearin' one of them 
 torrid suits you see in Max Blumstein's show window, 
 with a rainbow band on his straw pancake, and one of 
 these flannel collar shirts that you button under the 
 chin with a brass safety pin. She was sportin' a Peter 
 Pan peekaboo that would have made Comstock gasp. 
 And neither of 'em had seen a pay day for the last two 
 months. 
 
 But it was done good, though. They had the tray 
 jugglers standin' around respectful, and the other 
 guests wonderm' how two such real House of Mirthers 
 
 60
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 should happen to stray in where the best dishes on 
 the card wa'n't more'n sixty cents a double portion. 
 
 Course, I ain't never been real chummy with Tor- 
 toni his boardin' house name's Skinny Welch, you 
 know but I've seen him knockin' around the Rialto 
 off'n on for years ; so, as I goes by to the next table, I 
 lifts my lid and says, " Hello, Skin. How goes it ? " 
 Say, wa'n't that friendly enough? But what kind of 
 a come back do I get? He just humps his eyebrows, 
 as much as to say, " How bold some of these common 
 folks is gettin' to be ! " and then turns the other way. 
 Sadie and I look at each other and swap grins. 
 
 " What happened? " says. she. 
 
 " I had a fifteen cent lump of Hygeia passed to me," 
 says I. " And with the ice trust still on top, I calls 
 it extravagant." 
 
 " Who are the personages ? " says she. 
 
 " Well, the last reports I had of 'em," says I, " they 
 were the Tortonis, waitin' to do a parlour sketch on 
 the bargain day matinee circuit; but from the looks 
 now I guesses they're travellin' incog for the after- 
 noon, anyway." 
 
 " How lovely ! " says Sadie. 
 
 Our seltzer lemonades come along just then, so there 
 was business with the straws. I'd just fished out the 
 last piece of pineapple when Jeems shows up on the 
 drive with the spotted ponies and that side sadclle cart. 
 
 ,61
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 I gave Sadie the nudge to look at the Tortonis. They 
 had their eyes glued to that outfit, like a couple of Hes- 
 ter-st. kids lookin' at a hoky poky waggon. 
 
 And it wa'n't no common " Oh, I wish I could 
 swipe that " look, either. It was a heap deeper'n that. 
 The whole get up, from the red wheels to the silver 
 rosettes, must have hit 'em hard, for they held their 
 breath most a minute, and never moved. The girl was 
 the first to break away. She turns her face out to- 
 wards the Sound and sighs. Say, it must be tough to 
 have ambitions like that, and never get nearer to 'em 
 than now and then a ten block hansom ride. 
 
 About then Jeems catches Sadie's eye, and salutes 
 with the whip. 
 
 " Did you get it fixed ? " says she. 
 
 He says it's all done like new. 
 
 Signer Tortoni hadn't been losin' a look nor a word, 
 and the minute he ties us up to them speckled ponies 
 he maps out a change of act. Before I could call the 
 waiter and get my change, Tortoni was right on the 
 ground. 
 
 " I beg pardon," says he, " but isn't this my old 
 friend, Professor McCabe?" 
 
 " You've sure got a comin' memory, Skinny," 
 says I. 
 
 " Why ! " says he, gettin' a grip on my paw, " how 
 stupid of me ! Really, professor, you've grown so dis- 
 
 62
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 tinguished looking that I didn't place you at all. Why 5 
 this is a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, in- 
 deed!" 
 
 "Ye-e-es?" says I. 
 
 But say, I couldn't rub it in. He was so dead 
 anxious to connect himself with that red cart before 
 the crowd that I just let him spiel away. Inside of 
 two minutes the honours had been done all around, and 
 Sadie was bein' as nice to the girl as she knew how. 
 And Sadie knows, though! She'd heard that sigh, 
 Sadie had ; and it didn't jar me a bit when she gives 
 them the invite to take a little drive down the road 
 with us. 
 
 Well, it was worth the money, just to watch Skinny 
 judgin' up the house out of the corner of his eye. 
 I'll bet there wa'n't one in the audience that he didn't 
 know just how much of it they was takin' in; and by 
 the easy way he leaned across the seat back and 
 chinned to Sadie, as we got started, you'd thought he'd 
 been brought up in one of them carts. The madam 
 wa'n't any in the rear, either. She was just as much 
 to home as if she'd been usin' up a green transfer 
 across 34th. If the style was new to her, or the 
 motion gave her a tingly feelin' down her back, she 
 never mentioned it. 
 
 They did lose their breath a few, though, when we 
 struck Wigghorn Arms. It's a whackin' big place, all 
 
 63
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 fenced in with fancy iron work and curlicue gates 
 fourteen feet high. 
 
 " I've just got to run in a minute and say a word to 
 Mrs. Wigghorn," says Sadie. " I hope you don't mind 
 waiting? " 
 
 Oh no, they didn't. They said so in chorus, and as 
 we looped the loop through the shrubbery and began 
 to get glimpses of window awnings and tiled roof, I 
 could tell by the way they acted that they'd just as 
 soon wait inside as not. 
 
 Mrs. Wigghorn wasn't takin' any chances on havin' 
 Their Dukelets drive up, leave their cards, and skidoo. 
 She was right out front holdin' down a big porch 
 rocker, with her eyes peeled up the drive. And she 
 was costumed for the part. I don't know just what 
 it was she had on, but I've seen plush parlour suits 
 covered with stuff like that. She's a sizable old girl 
 anyway, but in that rig, and with her store hair puffed 
 out, she loomed up like a bale of hay in a door. 
 
 " Why, how do you do ! " she squeals, makin' a 
 swoop at Sadie as soon as the wheels stopped turnin'. 
 "And you did bring them along, didn't you? Now 
 don't say a word until I get Peter he's just gone in 
 to brush the cigar ashes off his vest. We want to be 
 presented to the Duke and Duchess together, you 
 know. Peter! Pe-ter!" she shouts, and in through 
 the front door she waddles, yellin' for the old man. 
 
 64
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 And say, just by the look Sadie gave me I kne\v 
 what was runnin' through her head. 
 
 " Shorty," says she, " I've a mind to do it" 
 
 "Flag it," says. "You ain't got time." 
 
 But there was no stoppin' her. " Listen," says she 
 to the Tortonis. " Can't you play Duke and Duchess 
 of Kildee for an hour or so?" 
 
 " What are the lines ? " says Skinny. 
 
 " You've got to improvise as you go along," says she. 
 "Can you do it?" 
 
 " It's a pipe for me," says he. " Flossy, do you 
 come in on it? " 
 
 Did she ? Why, Flossy was diggin' up her English 
 accent while he was askin' the question, and by the 
 time Mrs. Wigghorn got back, draggin' Peter by the 
 lapel of his dress coat, the Tortonis was fairly oozin' 
 aristocracy. It was " Chawmed, don'tcher know ! " 
 and " My word ! " right along from the drop of the 
 hat. 
 
 I didn't follow 'em inside, and was just as glad I 
 didn't have to. Sittin' out there, expectin' to hear 
 the lid blow off, made me nervous enough. I wasn't 
 afraid either of 'em would go shy on front; but 
 when I remembered Flossy's pencilled eyebrows, and 
 Skinny's flannel collar, I says to myself, " That'll queer 
 'em as soon as they get in a good light and there's time 
 for the details to soak in." And I didn't know what 
 
 65
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 kind of trouble the Wigghorns might stir up for Sadie, 
 when they found out how bad they'd been toasted. 
 
 It was half an hour before Sadie showed up again, 
 and she was lookin' merry. 
 
 " What have they done with 'em," says I " dropped 
 'em down the well ? " 
 
 Sadie snickered as she climbed in and told Jeems to 
 whip up the team. " Mr. and Mrs. Wigghorn," says 
 she, " have persuaded the Duke and Duchess to spend 
 the week's end at Wigghorn Arms." 
 
 "Gee!" says I. "Can they run the bluff that 
 long?" 
 
 "It's running itself," says Sadie. "The Wigg- 
 horns are so overcome with the honour that they hardly 
 know whether they're afoot or horseback; and as for 
 your friends, they're more British than the real articles 
 ever thought of being. I stayed until they'd looked 
 through the suite of rooms they're to occupy, and when 
 I left they were being towed out to the garage to pick 
 out a touring car that suited them. They seemed al- 
 ready to be bored to death, too." 
 
 " Good ! " say I. " Now maybe you'll take me over 
 to the beach and let me get in a quarter's worth of 
 swim." 
 
 "Can't you put it off, Shorty?" says she. "I 
 want you to take the next train into town and do an 
 errand for me. Go to the landlady at this number 4 
 
 65
 
 THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT 
 
 East I5th-st., and tell her to send Mr. Tortoni's trunk 
 by express." 
 
 iWell, I did it. It took a ten to make the landlady 
 loosen up on the wardrobe, too; but considerin' the 
 solid joy I've had, thinkin' about Skinny and Flossy 
 eatin' charlotte russe for breakfast, and all that, I guess 
 I'm gettin' a lot for my money. It ain't every day 
 you have a chance to elevate a vaudeville team to the 
 peerage.
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 WELL, say, this is where we mark up one on Pinck- 
 ney. And it's time too, for he's done the grin act at 
 me so often he was comin' to think I was gettin' into 
 the Slivers class. You know about Pinckney. He's 
 the bubble on top of the glass, the snapper on the whip 
 lash, the sunny spot at the club. He's about as serious 
 as a kitten playin' with a string, and the cares on his 
 mind weigh 'most as heavy as an extra rooster feather 
 on a spring bonnet. 
 
 That's what comes of havin' a self raisin' income, a 
 small list of relatives, and a moderate thirst. If any- 
 thing bobs up that needs to be worried over like 
 whether he's got vests enough to last through a little 
 trip to London and back, or whether he's doubled up 
 on his dates why, he just tells his man about it, and 
 then forgets. For a trouble dodger he's got the little 
 birds in the trees carryin' weight. Pinckney's liable to 
 show up at the Studio here every day for a week, and 
 then again I won't get a glimpse of him for a month. 
 It's always safe to expect him when you see him, and 
 it's a waste of time wonderin' what he'll be up to next. 
 But one of the things I likes most about Pinckney is 
 
 68
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 that he ain't livin' yesterday or to-morrow. It's al- 
 ways this A. M. with him, and the rest of the calendar 
 takes care of itself. 
 
 So I wa'n't any surprised, as I was doin' a few 
 laps on the avenue 'awhile back, to hear him give me 
 the hail. 
 
 " Oh, I say, Shorty ! " says he, wavin' his stick. 
 " Got anything on ? " 
 
 " Nothin' but my clothes," says I. 
 
 " Good ! " says he. " Come with me, then." 
 
 " Sure you know where you're goin' ? " says I. 
 
 Oh, yes, he was almost. It was some pier or other 
 he was headed for, and he has the number wrote down 
 on a card if he could find the card. By luck he digs 
 it up out of his cigarette case, where his man has put 
 it on purpose, and then he proceeds to whistle up a 
 cab. Say, if it wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon 
 Pinckney would take root somewhere. 
 
 " Meetin' some one, or seein' 'em off ? " says I, as 
 we climbs in. 
 
 " Hanged if I know yet," says Pinckney. 
 
 " Maybe it's you that's goin' ? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, no," says he. " That is, I hadn't planned 
 to, you know. And come to think of it, I believe I 
 am to meet er Jack and Jill." 
 
 " Names sound kind of familiar," says I. " What's 
 the breed ? " 
 
 69
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY, 
 
 " What would be your guess ? " says he. 
 
 " A pair of spotted ponies," says I. 
 
 " By Jove ! " says he, " I hadn't thought of ponies." 
 
 " Say," says I, sizin' him up to see if he was hand- 
 in' me a josh, " you don't mean to give out that you're 
 lookin' for a brace of something to come in on the 
 steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or 
 wild, long haired or short, crated or live stock ? " 
 
 " Live stock ! " says he, beamin'. " That's exactly 
 the word I have been trying to think of. That's what 
 I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully, Shorty, for the 
 hint." 
 
 " You're welcome," says I. " It looks like you need 
 all the help along that line you can get. Do you re- 
 member if this pair was somethin' you sent for, or is 
 it a birthday surprise ? " 
 
 With that he unloads as much of the tale as he's 
 accumulated up to date. Seems he'd just got a cable- 
 gram from some firm in London that signs themselves 
 Tootle, Tupper & Tootle, sayin' that Jack and Jill 
 would be on the Lucania, as per letter. 
 
 " And then you lost the letter ? " says I. 
 
 No, he hadn't lost it, not that he knew of. He 
 supposes that it's with the rest of last week's mail, 
 that he hasn't looked over yet. The trouble was he'd 
 been out of town, and hadn't been back more'n a day 
 or so and he could read letters when there wa'n't 
 
 70
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 anything else to do. That's Pinckney, from the 
 ground up. 
 
 " Why not go back and get the letter now ? " says I. 
 " Then you'll know all about Jack and Jill." 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " says he. " That would spoil all the 
 fun. Let's see what they're like first, and read about 
 them afterwards." 
 
 " If it suits you," says I, " it's all the same to me. 
 Only you won't know whether to send for a hostler 
 or an animal trainer." 
 
 " Perhaps I'd better engage both," says Pinckney. 
 
 If they'd been handy, he would have, too ; but they 
 wa'n't, so down we sails to the pier, where the folks 
 was comin' ashore. 
 
 First thing Pinckney spies after we has rushed the 
 gangplank is a gent with a healthy growth of under- 
 brush on his face and a lot of gold on his sleeves. 
 By the way they got together, I see that they was old 
 friends. 
 
 " I hear you have something on board consigned to 
 me, Captain ? " says Pinckney. " Something in the 
 way of live stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap in the ribs 
 with his cane. 
 
 " Right you are," says Cappie, chucklin' through his 
 whiskers. " And the liveliest kind of live stock we 
 ever carried, sir." 
 
 Pinckney gives me the nudge, as much as to say
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 he'd struck it first crack, and then he remarks, " Ah ! 
 And where are they now ? " 
 
 " Why," says the Cap, " they were cruising around 
 the promenade deck a minute ago; but, Lor' bless 
 you, sir ! there's no telling where they are now up on 
 the bridge, or down in the boiler room. They're a 
 pair of colts, those two." 
 
 " Colts ! " says Pinckney, gaspin'. " You mean 
 ponies, don't you ? " 
 
 " Well, well, ponies or colts, it's all one. They're 
 lively enough for either, and Heigho! Here they 
 come, the rascals ! " 
 
 There's whoop and a scamper, and along the deck 
 rushes a couple of six- or seven-year old youngsters, 
 that makes a dive for the Cap'n, catches him around 
 either leg, and almost upsets him. They was twins, 
 and it didn't need the kilt suits just alike and the hair 
 boxed just the same to show it, either. They couldn't 
 have been better matched if they'd been a pair of socks, 
 and the faces of 'em was all grins and mischief. Say, 
 anyone with a heart in him couldn't help takin' to 
 kids like that, providin' they didn't take to him 
 first. 
 
 " Here you are, sir," says the Cap'n, " here's your 
 Jack and Jill, and I wish you luck with them. It'll be 
 a good month before I can get back discipline aboard ; 
 but I'm glad I had the bringing of 'em over. Here 
 
 72
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 you are, you holy terrors, here's the Uncle Pinckney 
 you've been howling for ! " 
 
 At that they let loose of the Cap, gives a war- 
 whoop in chorus, and lands on Pinckney with a reg'lar 
 flyin' tackle, both talkin' to once. Well say, he didn't 
 know whether to holler for help or laugh. He just 
 stands there and looks foolish, while one of 'em 
 shins up and gets an overhand holt on his lilac 
 necktie. 
 
 About then I notices some one bearin' down on 
 us from the other side of the deck. She was one of 
 these tall, straight, deep chested, wide eyed girls, built 
 like the Goddess of Liberty, and with cheeks like a 
 bunch of swee't peas. Say, she was all right, she was ; 
 and if it hadn't been for the Paris clothes she was 
 wearin' home I could have made a guess whether she 
 come from Denver, or Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, 
 we don't raise many of that kind in New York. She 
 has her eyes on the youngsters. 
 
 " Good-bye, Jack and Jill," says she, wavin' her hand 
 at 'em. 
 
 But nobody gets past them kids as easy as that. 
 They yells " Miss Gertrude ! " at her like she was a 
 mile off, and points to Pinckney, and inside of a min- 
 ute they has towed 'em together,- pushed 'em up against 
 the rail, and is makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a 
 mile a minute. 
 
 73
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Pleased, I'm sure," says Miss Gerty. " Jack and 
 Jill are great friends of mine. I suppose you are 
 their Uncle Pinckney." 
 
 " I'm almost beginning to believe I am," says Pinck- 
 ney. 
 
 " Why," says she, " aren't you " 
 
 " Oh, that's my name," says he. " Only I didn't 
 know that I was an uncle. Doubtless it's all right, 
 though. I'll look it up." 
 
 With that she eyes him like she thought he was 
 just out of the nut factory, and the more Pinckney 
 tries to explain, the worse he gets twisted. Finally he 
 turns to the twins. " See here, youngsters," says he, 
 " which one of you is Jack? " 
 
 " Me," says one of 'em. " I'se Jack." 
 
 " Well, Jack," says Pinckney, " what is your last 
 name ? " 
 
 " Anstruther," says the kid. 
 
 " The devil ! " says Pinckney, before he could stop 
 it. Then he begs pardon all around. " I see," says 
 he. " I had almost forgotten about Jack Anstruther, 
 though I shouldn't. So Jack is your papa, is he? 
 And where is Jack now ? " 
 
 Some one must have trained them to do it, for they 
 gets their heads together, like they was goin' to sing 
 a hymn, rolls up their eyes, and pipes out, " Our 
 papa is up there." 
 
 74
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 " The deuce you say ! I wouldn't have thought it ! " 
 gasps Pinckney. " No, no ! I I mean I hadn't heard 
 of it." 
 
 It was a bad break, though; but the girl sees how 
 cut up he is about it, and smooths everything out with 
 a laugh. 
 
 " I fancy Jack and Jill know very little of such 
 things," says she ; " but they can tell you all about 
 Marie." 
 
 " Marie's gone ! " shouts the kids. " She says we 
 drove her crazy." 
 
 That was the way the story come out, steady by 
 jerks. The meat of it was that one of Pinckney 's 
 old chums had passed in somewhere abroad, and for 
 some reason or other these twins of his had been 
 shipped over to Pinckney in care of a French gov- 
 erness. Between not knowing how to herd a pair of 
 lively ones like Jack and Jill, and her gettin' inter- 
 ested in a tall gent with a lovely black moustache, 
 Marie had kind of shifted her job off onto the rest of 
 the passengers, specially Gerty, and the minute the 
 steamer touched the dock she had rolled her hoop, 
 
 " Pinckney," says I, " it's you to the bat." 
 
 He looks at the twins doubtful, then he squints at 
 me, and next he looks at Miss Gertrude. " By Jove ! " 
 says he. " It appears that way, doesn't it ? I wonder 
 how long I am expected to keep them ? " 
 
 75
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 The twins didn't know; I didn't; and neither does 
 Gerty. 
 
 " I had planned to take a noon train west," says 
 she; "but if you think I could help in getting Jack 
 and Jill ashore, I'll stay over for a few hours." 
 
 " Will you ? " says he. " That's ripping good of 
 you. Really, you know, I never took care of twins 
 before." 
 
 " How odd ! " says she, tearin' off a little laugh 
 that sounds as if it come out of a music box. " I 
 suppose you will take them home ? " 
 
 " Home ! " says Pinckney. Say, you'd thought he 
 never heard the word before. " Why ah er I 
 live at the club, you know." 
 
 " Oh," says she. 
 
 " Would a hotel do ? " says Pinckney. 
 
 " You might try it," says she, throwin' me a look 
 that was all twinkles. 
 
 Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees to their 
 baggage, and calls another cab. Pinckney and the 
 girl takes Jill, I loads Jack in with me, and off we 
 starts. It was a great ride. Ever try to answer all 
 the questions a kid of that age can think up? Say, 
 I was three behind and short of breath before we'd 
 gone ten blocks. 
 
 " Is all this America ? " says Mr. Jack, pointin' up 
 Broadway. 
 
 76
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 " No, sonny," says I ; " this is little old New York." 
 
 " Where's America, then ? " says he. 
 
 " Around the edges," says I. 
 
 " I'm goin' to be president some day," says he. 
 "Are you?" 
 
 " Not till Teddy lets go, anyway," says I. 
 
 "Who's Teddy?" says he. 
 
 " The man behind the stick," says I. 
 
 " I wish I had a stick," says Jack ; " then I could 
 whip the'hossie. I wish I had suffin' to eat, too." 
 
 " I'd give a dollar if you had," says I. 
 
 It seems that Jill has been struck with the same 
 idea, for pretty soon we comes together, and Pinck- 
 ney shouts that we're all goin' to have lunch. Now, 
 there's a lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll bet 
 Pinckney couldn't name more'n four, to save his neck, 
 and the Fifth-ave. joint he picks out was the one he's 
 most used to. 
 
 It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place. Mostly the 
 people who hang out there belong to the Spender 
 clan. It's where the thousand-dollar tenors, and the 
 ex-steel presidents, and the pick of the pony ballet 
 come for broiled birds and bottled bubbles. But that 
 don't bother Pinckney a bit; so we blazes right in, 
 kids and all. The head waiter most has a fit when he 
 spots Pinckney towin' a twin with each hand; but he 
 plants us at a round table in the middle of the room, 
 
 77
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 turns on the electric light under the seashell shades, 
 and passes out the food programs. I looks over the 
 card; but as there wa'n't anything entered that I'd 
 ever met before, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look 
 around, and smiles. But the twins wa'n't a bit 
 fazed. 
 
 " What will it be, youngsters ? " says Pinckney. 
 
 " Jam," says they. 
 
 " Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple 
 of jars. 
 
 " Don't you think they ought to have something 
 besides sweets ? " says Miss Gerty. 
 
 " Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it 
 up to the kids if there wa'n't anything else they'd 
 like. 
 
 " Yep ! " says they eagerly. " Pickles." 
 
 That's what they had too, jam and pickles, with a 
 little bread on the side. Then, while we was finishin' 
 off the grilled bones, or whatever it was Pinckney had 
 guessed at, they slides out of their chairs and organises 
 a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doin's 
 bein' pulled off in that partic'lar caffy, but I'll bet this 
 was the first game of cross tag ever let loose there. 
 It was a lively one, for the tables was most all filled, 
 and the tray jugglers was skatin' around thick. That 
 only made it all the more interestin' for the kids. 
 Divin' between the legs of gargons loaded down with 
 
 78
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 silver and china dishes was the best sport they'd struck 
 in a month, and they just whooped it up. 
 
 I could see the head waiter, standin' on tiptoes, 
 watchin' 'em and holdin' his breath. Pinckney was be- 
 g.nnin' to look worried too, but Gerty was settin' 
 there, as calm and smilin' as if they was playin' in a 
 vacant lot. It was easy to see she wa'n't one of the 
 worryin' kind. 
 
 " I wonder if I shouldn't stop them ? " says Pinck- 
 ney. 
 
 Before he's hardly got it out, there conies a bang 
 and a smash, and a fat French waiter goes down with 
 umpteen dollars' worth of fancy grub and dishes. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty. 
 
 " Yes," says I, " some of them careless waiters might 
 fall on one of 'em." 
 
 With that Pinckney starts after 'em, tall hat, cane, 
 and all. The kids see him, and take it that he's joined 
 the game. 
 
 " Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney ! " they shouts. 
 " You're it, Uncle Pinckney ! " and off they goes. 
 
 That sets everybody roarin' except Pinckney. He 
 turns a nice shade of red, and gives it up. I guess 
 they'd put the place all to the bad, if Miss Gerty 
 hadn't stood up smilin' and held her hands out to 
 them. They come to her like she'd pulled a string, and 
 in a minute it was all over. 
 
 79
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Pinckney," says I, " you want to rehearse this 
 uncle act some before you spring it on the public 
 again." 
 
 " I wish I could get at that letter and find out how 
 long this is going to last," says he, sighin' and moppin' 
 his noble brow. 
 
 But if Pinckney was shy on time for letter readin' 
 before, he had less of it now. The three of us put 
 in the afternoon lookin' after that pair of kids, and 
 we was all busy at that. Twice Miss Gerty started 
 to break away and go for a train; but both times 
 Pinckney sent me to call her back. Soon's she got 
 on the scene everything was lovely. 
 
 Pinckney had picked out a suite of rooms at the 
 Waldorf, and he thought as soon as he could get hold 
 of a governess and a maid his troubles would be over. 
 But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of twin trainers. 
 Three or four sets shows up; but when they starts to 
 ask questions about who the twins belongs to, and who 
 Pinckney was, and where Miss Gerty comes in, and 
 what was I doin' there they gets a touch of pneumonia 
 in the feet. 
 
 " I ain't casting any insinuations," says one ; " but I 
 never have been mixed up in a kidnapping case before, 
 and I guess I won't begin now." 
 
 " The sassy thing ! """ says I, as she bangs the 
 door. 
 
 80
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 Pinckney looks stunned ; but Miss Gerty only laughs. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd better let me go out and find some 
 one," says she. "And maybe I'll stay over for a 
 day." 
 
 While she was gone Pinckney gets me to take a 
 note up to his man, tellin' him to overhaul the mail and 
 send all the London letters down. That took me less'n 
 an hour, but when I gets back to the hotel I finds 
 Pinckney with furrows in his brow, tryin' to make 
 things right with the manager. He'd only left the 
 twins locked up in the rooms for ten minutes or so, 
 while he goes down for some cigarettes and the after- 
 noon papers; but before he gets back they've rung 
 up everything, from the hall maids to the fire depart- 
 ment, run the bath tub over, and rigged the patent 
 fire escapes out of the window. 
 
 " Was it you that was tellin' about not wantin' to 
 miss any fun ? " says I. 
 
 " Don't rub it in, Shorty," says he. " Did you get 
 that blamed Tootle letter?" 
 
 He grabs it eager. " Now," says he, " we'll see who 
 these youngsters are to be handed over to, and 
 when." 
 
 The twins had got me harnessed up to a chair, and 
 we was havin' an elegant time, when Pinckney gives 
 a groan and hollers for me to come in and shut the 
 door. 
 
 81
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 "Shorty," says he, "what do you think? There 
 isn't anyone else. I've got to keep them." 
 
 Then he reads me the letter, which is from some 
 English lawyers, sayin' that the late Mr. Anstruther, 
 havin' no relations, has asked that his two children, 
 Jack and Jill, should be sent over to his old and dear 
 friend, Mr. Lionel Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the 
 request that he act as their guardian until they should 
 come of age. The letter also says that there's a wad 
 of money in the bank for expenses. 
 
 " And the deuce of it is, I can't refuse," says Pinck- 
 ney. " Jack once did me a good turn that I can never 
 forget." 
 
 " Well, this makes twice, then," says I. " But cheer 
 up. For a bachelor, you're doin' well, ain't you ? Now 
 all you need is an account at the grocer's, and you're 
 almost as good as a fam'ly man." 
 
 " But," says he, " I know nothing about bringing 
 up children." 
 
 " Oh, you'll learn," says I. " You'll be manager of 
 an orphan asylum yet." 
 
 It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up with a broad 
 faced Swedish nurse that Pinckney gets his courage 
 back, Gerty tells him he can take the night off, as 
 she'll be on the job until mornin'; and Pinckney says 
 the thoughts of goin' back to the club never seemed 
 quite so good to him as then. 
 
 82
 
 PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB 
 
 " So long," says I ; " but don't forget that you're an 
 uncle." 
 
 I has a picture of Pinckney takin' them twins by the 
 hand, about the second day, and headin' for some 
 boardin' school or private home. I couldn't help 
 thinkin' about what a shame it was goin' to be too, for 
 they sure was a cute pair of youngsters too cute to 
 be farmed out reckless. 
 
 Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney doin' any- 
 thing else. Even if he was married to one of them 
 lady nectarines in the crowd he travels with, and had 
 a kid of his own, I guess it would be a case of mama 
 and papa havin' to be introduced to little Gwendolyn 
 every once in awhile by the head of the nursery depart- 
 ment. 
 
 Oh, I has a real good time for a few days, stewin' 
 over them kids, and wonderin' how they and Pinckney 
 was comin' on. And then yesterday I runs across the 
 whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradin' down the 
 avenue bound for a candy shop, the whole four of 'em 
 as smilin' as if they was startin' on a picnic. 
 
 " Chee, Pinckney ! " says I, " you look like you was 
 pleased with the amateur uncle business." 
 
 "Why not?" says he. "You ought to see how 
 glad those youngsters are to see me when I come in. 
 And we have great sport." 
 
 " Hotel people still friendly ? " says I. 
 83
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Why," says he, " I believe there have been a few 
 complaints. But we'll soon be out of that. I've leased 
 a country house for the summer, you know." 
 
 " A house ! " says I. " You with a house ! Who'll 
 run it?" 
 
 " S-s-s-sh ! " says he, pullin' me one side and talkin' 
 into my ear. " I'm going West to-night, to bring on 
 her mother, and " 
 
 " Oh, I see," says I. " You're goin' to offer Gerty 
 the job?" 
 
 Pinckney gets a colour on his cheek bones at that. 
 " She's a charming girl, Shorty," says he. 
 
 " She's nothin' less," says I ; " and them twins are 
 all right too. But say, Pinckney, I'll bet you never 
 meet a steamer again without knowin' all about why 
 you're there. Eh ? "
 
 VI 
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 WELL, I've been doin' a little more circulatin' among 
 the fat-wads. It's gettin' to be a reg'lar fad with me. 
 And say, I used to think they was a simple lot ; but I 
 don't know as they're much worse than some others 
 that ain't got so good an excuse. 
 
 I was sittin' on my front porch, at Primrose Park, 
 when in rolls that big bubble of Sadie's, with her be- 
 hind the plate glass and rubber. 
 
 " But I thought you was figurin' in that big house 
 party out to Breeze Acres," says I, " where they've 
 got a duchess on exhibition ? " 
 
 " It's the duchess I'm running away from," says 
 Sadie. 
 
 " You ain't gettin' stage fright this late in the game, 
 are you ? " says I. 
 
 "Hardly," says she. "I'm bored, though. Th'e 
 duchess is a frost. She talks of nothing but her girls' 
 charity school and her complexion baths. Thirty of 
 us have been shut up with her for three days now, 
 and we know her by heart. Pinckney asked me to 
 drop around and see if I could find you. He says he's 
 
 85
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 played billiards and poker until he's lost all the friends 
 he ever had, and that if he doesn't get some exercise 
 soon he'll die of indigestion. Will you let me take you 
 over for the night ? " 
 
 Well, I've monkeyed with them swell house parties 
 before, and generally I've dug up trouble at 'em; but 
 for the sake of Pinckney's health I said I'd take 
 another chance; so in I climbs, and we goes zippin' 
 off through the mud. Sadie hadn't told me more'n 
 half the cat-scraps the women had pulled off durin' 
 them rainy days before we was 'most there. 
 
 Just as we slowed up to turn into the private road 
 that leads up to Breeze Acres, one of them dinky 
 little one-lunger benzine buggies comes along, missin' 
 forty explosions to the minute and coughin' itself to 
 death on a grade you could hardly see. All of a sud- 
 den somethin' goes off, Bang ! and the feller that was 
 jugglin' the steerin' bar throws up both hands like he'd 
 been shot with a ripe tomato. 
 
 " Caramba ! " says he. " Likewise gadzooks ! " as 
 the antique quits movin' altogether. 
 
 I'd have known that lemon-coloured pair of lip 
 whiskers anywhere. Leonidas Dodge has the only 
 ones in captivity. I steps out of the show-case in 
 time to see mister man lift off the front lid and shove 
 his head into the works. 
 
 " Is the post mortem on? " says I. 
 86
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 " By the beard of the prophet ! " says he, swingin 1 
 around, " Shorty McCabe ! " 
 
 " Much obliged to meet you," says I, givin' him the 
 grip. " The Electro-Polisho business must be boom- 
 in'," says I, " when you carry it around in a gasoline 
 coach. But go on with your autopsy. Is it loco- 
 motor ataxia that ails the thing, or cirrhosis of the 
 sparkin' plug ? " 
 
 " It's nearer senile dementia," says he. " Gaze on 
 that piece of mechanism, Shorty. There isn't another 
 like it in the country." 
 
 " I can believe that," says I. 
 
 For an auto it was the punkiest ever. No two of 
 the wheels was mates or the same size; the tires was 
 bandaged like so many sore throats ; the front dasher 
 was wabbly; one of the side lamps was a tin stable 
 lantern ; and the seat was held on by a couple of cleats 
 knocked off the end of a packing box. 
 
 " Looks like it had seen some first-aid repairin'," 
 says I. 
 
 " Some ! " says Leonidas. " Why, I've nailed this 
 relic together at least twice a week for the last two 
 months. I've used waggon bolts, nuts borrowed from 
 wayside pumps, pieces of telephone wire, and horse- 
 shoe nails. Once I ran twenty miles with the sprocket 
 chain tied up with twine. And yet they say that the 
 age of miracles has passed ! It would need a whole 
 
 87
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 machine shop to get her going again," says he. " I'll 
 wait until my waggons come up, and then we'll get 
 out the tow rope." 
 
 " Waggons ! " says I. " You ain't travellin' with a 
 retinue, are you ? " 
 
 " That's the exact word for it," says he. And then 
 Leonidas tells me about the Sagawa aggregation. 
 Ever see one of these medicine shows? Well, that's 
 what Leonidas had. He was sole proprietor and 
 managing boss of the outfit. 
 
 " We carry eleven people, including drivers and 
 canvas men," says he, " and we give a performance 
 that the Proctor houses would charge seventy-five 
 a head for. It's all for a dime, too quarter for re- 
 served and our gentlemanly ushers offer the Sagawa 
 for sale only between turns." 
 
 "You talk like a three-sheet poster," says I. 
 " Where you headed for now ? " 
 
 " We're making a hundred-mile jump up into the 
 mill towns," says he, " and before we've worked up 
 as far as Providence I expect we'll have to carry the 
 receipts in kegs." 
 
 That was Leonidas, all over; seein' rainbows when 
 other folks would be predictin' a Johnstown flood. 
 Just about then, though, the bottom began to drop out 
 of another cloud, so I lugged him over to the big 
 bubble and put him inside. 
 
 88
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 " Sadie," says I, " I want you to know an old side 
 pardner of mine. His name's Leonidas Dodge, or 
 used to be, and there's nothing yellow about him but 
 his hair." 
 
 And say, Sadie hadn't more'n heard about the 
 Sagawa outfit than she begins to smile all over her 
 face; so I guesses right off that she's got tangled up 
 with some fool idea. 
 
 " It would be such a change from the duchess if we 
 could get Mr. Dodge to stop over at Breeze Acres to- 
 night and give his show," says Sadie. 
 
 " Madam," says Leonidas, " your wishes are my 
 commands." 
 
 Sadie kept on grinnin' and plannin' out the pro- 
 gram, while Leonidas passed out his high English as 
 smooth as a demonstrator at a food show. Inside of 
 ten minutes they has it all fixed. Then Sadie skips 
 into the little gate cottage, where the timekeeper lives, 
 and calls up Pinckney on the house 'phone. And say ! 
 what them two can't think of in the way of fool stunts 
 no one else can. 
 
 By the time she'd got through, the Sagawa aggre- 
 gation looms up on the road. There was two four- 
 horse waggons. The front one had a tarpaulin top, 
 and under cover was a bunch of the saddest lookin' 
 actorines and specialty people you'd want to see. They 
 didn't have life enough to look out when the driver 
 
 89
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 pulled up. The second waggon carried the round top 
 and poles. 
 
 " Your folks look as gay as a gang startin' off to do 
 time on the island," says I. 
 
 " They're not as cheerful as they might be, that's 
 a fact," says Leonidas. 
 
 It didn't take him long to put life into 'em, though. 
 When he'd give off a few brisk orders they chirked 
 up amazin'. They shed their rain coats for spangled 
 jackets, hung out a lot of banners, and uncased a lot 
 of pawnshop trombones and bass horns and such 
 things. " All up for the grand street parade ! " sings 
 out Leonidas. 
 
 For an off-hand attempt, it wa'n't so slow. First 
 comes Pinckney, ridin' a long-legged huntin' horse 
 and keepin' the rain off his red coat with an um- 
 brella. Then me and Sadie in her bubble, towin' the 
 busted one-lunger behind. Leonidas was standin' up 
 on the seat, wearin' his silk hat and handlin' a mega- 
 phone. Next came the band waggon, everybody 
 armed with some kind of musical weapon, and tearin' 
 the soul out of " The Merry Widow " waltz, in his own 
 particular way. The pole waggon brings up the rear. 
 
 Pinckney must have spread the news well, for the 
 whole crowd was out on the front veranda to see us 
 go past. And say, when Leonidas sizes up the kind 
 of folks that was givin' him the glad hand, he drops 
 
 90
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 the imitation society talk that he likes to spout, and 
 switches to straight Manhattanese. 
 
 " Well, well, well ! Here we are ! " he yells through 
 the megaphone. " The only original Sagawa show 
 on the road, remember ! Come early, gents, and bring 
 your lady friends. The doors of the big tent will open 
 at eight o'clock eight o'clock and at eight-fifteen 
 Mile. Peroxide, the near queen of comedy, will cut 
 loose on the coon songs." 
 
 " My word ! " says the duchess, as she squints 
 through her glasses at the aggregation. 
 
 But the rest of the guests was just ripe for some- 
 thing of the kind. Mrs. Curlew Brassett, who'd al- 
 most worried herself sick at seem' her party put on 
 the blink by a shop-worn exhibit on the inside and 
 rain on the out, told Pinckney he could have the medi- 
 cine tent pitched in the middle of her Italian garden, 
 if he wanted to. They didn't, though. They stuck 
 up the round top on the lawn just in front of the 
 stables, and they hadn't much more'n lit the gasolene 
 flares before the folks begins to stroll out and hit up 
 the ticket waggon. 
 
 " It's the first time I ever had the nerve to charge 
 two dollars a throw for perches on the blue boards," 
 says Leonidas ; " but that friend of yours, Mr. Pinck- 
 ney, wanted me to make it five." 
 
 Anyway, it was almost worth the 'money. Mile. 
 
 91
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Peroxide, who did the high and lofty with a job lot 
 of last year coon songs, owned a voice that would have 
 had a Grand-st. banana huckster down and out; the 
 monologue man was funny only when he didn't mean 
 to be; and the black-face banjoist was the limit. Then 
 there was a juggler, and Montana Kate, who wore 
 buckskin leggins and did a fake rifle-shootin' act. 
 
 I tried to head Leonidas off from sendin' out his 
 tent men, rigged up in red flannel coats, to sell bottled 
 Sagawa ; but he said Pinckney had told him to be sure 
 and do it. They were birds, them " gentlemanly 
 ushers." 
 
 " I'll bet I know where you picked up a lot of 'em," 
 says I. 
 
 " Where ? " says Leonidas. 
 
 " Off the benches in City Hall park," I says. 
 
 " All but one," says he, " and he had just graduated 
 from Snake Hill. But you didn't take this for one of 
 Frohman's road companies, did you ? " 
 
 They unloaded the Sagawa, though. The audience 
 wasn't missin' anything, and most everyone bought a 
 bottle for a souvenir. 
 
 " It's the great Indian liver regulator and com- 
 plexion beautifier," says Leonidas in his business talk. 
 " It removes corns, takes the soreness out of stiff 
 muscles, and restores the natural colour to grey hair. 
 Also, ladies and gents^ it can be used as a furniture 
 
 93
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 polish, while a few drops in the bath is better than a 
 week at Hot Springs." 
 
 He was right to home, Leonidas was, and it was a 
 joy to see him. He'd got himself into a wrinkled 
 dress suit, stuck an opera hat on the back of his head, 
 and he jollied along that swell mob just as easy as 
 if they'd been factory hands. And they all seemed 
 glad they'd come. After it was over Pinckney says 
 that it was too bad to keep such a good thing all to 
 themselves, and he wants me to see if Leonidas 
 wouldn't stay and give grand matinee performance 
 next day. 
 
 " Tell him I'll guarantee him a full house," says 
 Pinckney. 
 
 Course, Leonidas didn't need any coaxin'. " But 
 I wish you'd find out if there isn't a butcher's shop 
 handy," says he. " You see, we were up against it 
 for a week or so, over in Jersey, and the rations ran 
 kind of low. In fact, all we've had to live on for 
 the last four days has been bean soup and pilot bread, 
 and the artists are beginning to complain. Now that 
 I've got a little real money, I'd like to buy a few pounds 
 of steak. I reckon the aggregation would sleep better 
 after a hot supper." 
 
 I lays the case before Pinckney and Sadie, and 
 they goes straight for Mrs. Brassett. And say ! before 
 eleven-thirty they had that whole outfit lined up in 
 
 93
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 the main dinin'-room before such a feed as most of 
 'em hadn't ever dreamed about. There was every- 
 thing, from chilled olives to hot squab, with a pint 
 of fizz at every plate. 
 
 Right after breakfast Pinckney began warmin' the 
 telephone wires, callin' up everyone he knew within 
 fifteen miles. And he sure did a good job. While he 
 was at that I strolls out to the tent to have a little 
 chin with Leonidas, and I discovers him up to the neck 
 in trouble. He was backed up against the centre pole, 
 and in front of him was the whole actorette push, all 
 jawin' at once, and raisin' seven different kinds of 
 ructions. 
 
 " Excuse me for buttin' in," says I ; " but I thought 
 maybe this might be a happy family." 
 
 " It ought to be, but it ain't," says Leonidas. " Just 
 listen to 'em." 
 
 And say, what kind of bats do you think had got 
 into their belfries? Seems they'd heard about the 
 two-dollar-a-head crowd that was comin' to the mati- 
 nee. That, and bein' waited on by a butler at dinner 
 the night before, had gone to the vacant spot where 
 their brains ought to be. They were tellin' Leonidas 
 that if they were goin' to play to Broadway prices they 
 were goin' to give Broadway acts. 
 
 Mile. Peroxide allowed that she would cut out the 
 rag time and put in a few choice selections from 
 
 94
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 grand opera. Montana Kate hears that, and sheds 
 the buckskin leggins. No rifle shootin' for her; not 
 much! She had Ophelia's lines down pat, and she 
 meant to give 'em or die in the attempt. The black- 
 face ban joist says he can impersonate Sir Henry Irv- 
 ing to the life; and the juggler guy wants to show 'em 
 how he can eat up the Toreador song. 
 
 " These folks want somethin' high-toned," says Mile. 
 Peroxide, " and this is the chance of a lifetime for 
 me to fill the bill. I'd been doin' grand opera long 
 ago if it hadn't been for the trust." 
 
 " They told me at the dramatic school in Dubuque 
 that I ought to stick to Shakespeare," says Montana 
 Kate, " and here's where I get my hooks in." 
 
 " You talk to 'em, Shorty," says Leonidas ; " I'm 
 hoarse." 
 
 " Not me," says I. " I did think you was a real 
 gent, but I've changed my mind, Mr. Dodge. Any- 
 one who'll tie the can to high-class talent the way 
 you're tryin' to do is nothin' less'n a fiend in human 
 form." 
 
 " There, now ! " says the blondine. 
 
 Leonidas chucks the sponge. " You win," says he. 
 " I'll let you all take a stab at anything you please, 
 even if it comes to recitin' ' Ostler Joe ' ; but I'll be 
 blanked if I shut down on selling Sagawa ! " 
 
 Two minutes later they were turnin' trunks up- 
 95
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 side down diggin' out costumes to fit. As soon as they 
 began to rehearse, Leonidas goes outside and sits down 
 behind the tent, holdin' his face in his hands, like he 
 had the toothache. 
 
 " It makes me ashamed of my kind," says he. 
 " Why, they're rocky enough for a third-rate waggon 
 show, and I supposed they knew it ; but I'll be hanged 
 if every last one of 'em don't think they've got Sothern 
 or Julia Marlowe tied in a knot. Shorty, it's human 
 nature glimpses like this that makes bein' an optimist 
 hard work." 
 
 " They're a bug-house bunch ; all actors are," says I. 
 " You can't change 'em, though." 
 
 " I wish I wasn't responsible for this lot," says he. 
 
 He was feelin' worse than ever when the matinee 
 opens. It had stopped rainin' early in the mornin', 
 and all the cottagers for miles around had come over 
 to see what new doin's Pinckney had hatched up. 
 There was almost a capacity house when Leonidas 
 steps out on the stage to announce the first turn. I 
 knew he had more green money in his clothes that 
 minute than he'd handled in a month before, but he 
 acted as sheepish as if he was goin' to strike 'em for 
 a loan. 
 
 " I wish to call the attention of the audience," says 
 he, " to a few changes of program. Mile. Peroxide, 
 who is billed to sing coon songs, will render by her
 
 THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS 
 
 own request the jewel song from ' Faust,' and two 
 solos from ' Lucia di Lammermoor.' " 
 
 And say, she did it! Anyways, them was what she 
 aimed at. For awhile the crowd held its breath, tryin' 
 to believe it was only a freight engine whistlin' for 
 brakes, or somethin' like that. Then they began to 
 grin. Next some one touched off a giggle, and after 
 that they roared until they were wipin' away the 
 tears. 
 
 Leonidas don't look quite so glum when he conies 
 out to present the reformed ban joist as Sir Henry 
 Irving. He'd got his cue, all right, and he hands out 
 a game of talk about delayed genius comin' to the 
 front that tickled the folks clear through. The guy 
 never seemed to drop that he was bein' handed the 
 lemon, and he done his worst. 
 
 I thought they'd used up all the laughs they had in 
 'em, but Montana Kate as Ophelia set 'em wild again. 
 Maybe you've seen amateurs that was funny, but you 
 never see anything to beat that combination. Ama- 
 teurs are afraid to let themselves loose, but not that 
 bunch. They were so sure of bein' the best that ever 
 happened in their particular lines that they didn't even 
 know the crowd was givin' 'em the ha-ha until they'd 
 got through. 
 
 Anyway, as a rib tickler that show was all to the 
 good. The folks nearly mobbed Pinckney, tellin' him 
 
 97
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 what a case he was to think up such an exhibition, and 
 he laid it all to Sadie and me. 
 
 Only the duchess didn't exactly seem to connect with 
 the joke. She sat stolidly through the whole perform- 
 ance in a kind of a daze, and then afterwards she says : 
 " It wasn't what I'd call really clever, you know ; but, 
 my word ! the poor things tried hard enough." 
 
 Just before I starts for home I hunts up Leonidas. 
 He was givin' orders to his boss canvasman when I 
 found him, and feelin' the pulse of his one-lunger, that 
 Mrs. Brassett's chauffeur had tinkered up. 
 
 " Well, Leonidas," says I, " are you goin' to put the 
 Shakespeare-Sagawa combination on the ten-twenty- 
 thirt circuit?" 
 
 " Not if I can prove an alibi," says he. "I've just 
 paid a week's advance salary to that crowd of Melbas 
 and Booths, and told 'em to go sign contracts with 
 Frohman and Hammerstein, I may be running a 
 medicine show, but I've got some professional pride 
 left. Now I'm going back to New York and engage 
 an educated pig and a troupe of trained dogs to fill out 
 the season." 
 
 The last I saw of Montana Kate she was pacin' 
 up and down the station platform, readin' a copy of 
 " Romeo and Juliet." Ain't they the pippins, though ?
 
 VII 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 SAY, for gettin' all the joy that's comin' to you, 
 there's nothin' like bein' a mixer. The man who 
 travels in one class all the time misses a lot. And I 
 sure was mixin' it when I closes with Snick Butters 
 and Sir Hunter Twiggle all in the same day. 
 
 Snick had first place on the card. He drifts into the 
 Studio early in the forenoon, and when I sees the 
 green patch over the left eye I knows what's comin'. 
 He's shy of a lamp on that side, you know uses the 
 kind you buy at the store, when he's got it ; and when 
 he ain't got it, he wants money. 
 
 I s'pose if I was wise I'd scratched Snick off my 
 list long ago; but knowin' him is one of the luxuries 
 I've kept up. You know how it is with them old time 
 friends you've kind of outgrown but hate to chuck in 
 the discard, even when they work their touch as reg'lar 
 as rent bills. 
 
 But Snick and me played on the same block when 
 we was kids, and there was a time when I looked for 
 Snick to be boostin' me, 'stead of me boostin' him. 
 He's one of the near-smarts that you're always expect- 
 
 99
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 in' to make a record, but that never does. Bright look- 
 in' boy, neat dresser, and all that, but never stickin' to 
 one thing long enough to make good. You've seen 
 'ern. 
 
 " Hello, Snick ! " says I, as he levels the single barrel 
 on me. " I see you've pulled down the shade again. 
 What's happened to that memorial window of yours 
 this time?" 
 
 " Same old thing," says he. " It's in at Simpson's 
 for five, and a bookie's got the five." 
 
 "And now you want to negotiate a second mort- 
 gage, eh ? " says I. 
 
 That was the case. He tells me his newest job is 
 handlin' the josh horn on the front end of one of these 
 Rube waggons, and just because the folks from Keo- 
 kuk and Painted Post said that lookin' at the patch 
 took their minds off seein' the skyscrapers, the boss 
 told him he'd have to chuck it or get the run. 
 
 "He wouldn't come across with a five in advance, 
 either," says Snick. "How's that for the granite 
 heart?" 
 
 " It's like other tales of woe I've heard you tell," 
 says I, " and generally they could be traced to your 
 backin' three kings, or gettin' an inside tip on some 
 beanery skate." 
 
 " That's right," says he, " but never again. I've 
 quit the sportin' life for good. Just the same, if I 
 
 100
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 don't show up on the waggon for the 'leven o'clock 
 trip I'll be turned loose. If you don't believe it, 
 Shorty, I'll " 
 
 " Ah, don't go callin' any notary publics," says I. 
 " Here's the V to take up that ticket. But say, Snick ; 
 how many times do I have to buy out that eye before 
 I get an equity in it?" 
 
 " It's yours now ; honest, it is," says he. " If you 
 say so, I'll write out a bill of sale." 
 
 " No,'* says I, " your word goes. Do you pass it? " 
 
 He said he did. 
 
 " Thanks," says I. " I always have thought that 
 was a fine eye, and I'm proud to own it. So long, 
 Snick." 
 
 There's one good thing about Snick Butters; after 
 he's made his touch he knows enough to fade; don't 
 hang around and rub it in, or give you a chance to 
 wish you hadn't been so easy. It's touch and go with 
 him, and before I'd got out the last of my remarks 
 he was on his way. 
 
 It wa'n't more'n half josh, though, that I was givin* 
 him about that phony pane of his. It was a work of 
 art, one of the bright blue kind. As a general thing 
 you can always spot a bought eye as far as you can 
 see it, they're so set arid stary. But Snick got his 
 when he was young and, bein' a cute kid, he had 
 learned how to use it so well that most folks never 
 
 ior
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 knew the difference. He could do about everything 
 but see with it. 
 
 First off he'd trained it to keep pace with the other, 
 movin' 'em together, like they was natural ; but when- 
 ever he wanted to he could make the glass one stand 
 still and let the other roam around. He always did 
 that on Friday afternoons when he got up to speak 
 pieces in the grammar school. And it was no trick 
 at all for him to look wall eyed one minute, cross eyed 
 the next, and then straighten 'em out with a jerk of 
 his head. Maybe if it hadn't been for that eye of 
 Snick's I'd have got further'n the eighth grade. 
 
 His star performance, though, was when he did a 
 jugglin' act keepin' three potatoes in the air. He'd 
 follow the murphies with his good eye and turn the 
 other one on the audience, and if you didn't know how 
 it was done, it would give you the creeps up and down 
 the back, just watchin' him. 
 
 Say, you'd thought a feller with talent like that 
 would have made a name for himself, wouldn't you? 
 Tryin' to be a sport was where Snick fell down, 
 though. He had the blood, all right, but no head. 
 Why when we used to play marbles for keeps, Snick 
 would never know when to quit. He'd shoot away 
 until he'd lost his last alley, and then he'd pry out 
 that glass eye of his and chuck it in the ring for an- 
 other go. Many a time Snick's gone home wearin' 
 
 1 02
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 a striped chiny or a pink stony in place of the store 
 eye, and then his old lady would chase around lookin' 
 for the kid that had won it off'm him. There's such 
 a thing as bein' too good a loser ; but you could never 
 make Snick see it. 
 
 Well, I'd marked up five to the bad on my books, 
 and then Swifty Joe and me had worked an hour with 
 a couple of rockin' chair commodores from the New, 
 York Yacht Club, gettin' 'em in shape to answer Lip- 
 ton's batch of spring challenges, when Pinckney blows 
 in, towin' a tubby, red faced party in a frock coat and 
 a silk lid. 
 
 " Shorty," says he, " I want you to know Sir Hun- 
 ter Twiggle. Sir Hunter, this is the Professor Mc- 
 Cabe you've heard about." 
 
 " If you heard it from Pinckney," says I, " don't 
 believe more'n half of it." With that we swaps the 
 grip, and he says he's glad to meet up with me. 
 
 But say, he hadn't been in the shop two minutes 
 'fore I was next to the fact that he was another who'd 
 had to mate up his lamps with a specimen from the 
 glass counter. 
 
 " They must be runnin' in pairs," thinks I. 
 " This'd be a good time to draw to three of a kind." 
 
 Course, I didn't mention it, but I couldn't keep from 
 watchin' how awkward he handled his'n, compared to 
 the smooth way Snick could do it. I guess Pinckney 
 
 103
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 must have spotted me comin' the steady gaze, for pretty 
 soon he gets me one side and whispers, " Don't appear 
 to notice it." 
 
 "All right," says I; " I'll look at his feet." 
 
 " No, no," says Pinckney, " just pretend you haven't 
 discovered it. He's very sensitive on the subject 
 thinks no one knows, and so on." 
 
 " But it's as plain as a gold tooth," says I. 
 
 " I know," says Pinckney ; " but humour him. He's 
 the right sort." 
 
 Pinckney wa'n't far off, either. For a gent that 
 acted as though he'd been born wearin' a high collar 
 and a shiny hat, Sir Twiggle wasn't so worse. Bar- 
 rin' the stiffenin', which didn't wear off at all, he was 
 a decent kind of a haitch eater. Bein' dignified was 
 something he couldn't help. You'd never guessed, to 
 look at him, that he'd ever been mixed up in anything 
 livelier'n layin' a church cornerstone, but it leaks out 
 that he had been through all kinds of scraps in India, 
 comes from the same stock as the old Marquis of 
 Queensberry, and has followed the ring more or less 
 himself. 
 
 " I had the doubtful honour," says he, bringin' both 
 eyes into range on me, " of backing a certain Mr, 
 Palmer, whom we sent over here several years ago 
 after a belt." 
 
 " He got more'n one belt," says I. 
 104
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 " Quite so," says he, almost crackin' a smile ; " one 
 belt too many, I fancy." 
 
 Say, that was a real puncherino, eh? I ain't sure 
 but what he got off more along the same line, for some 
 of them British kind is hard to know unless you see 
 'em printed in the joke column. Anyway, we has quite 
 a chin, and before he left we got real chummy. 
 
 He had a right to be feelin' gay, though ; for he'd 
 come over to marry a girl with more real estate deeds 
 than you could pack in a trunk. Some kin of Pinck- 
 ney's, this Miss Cornerlot was ; a sort of faded flower 
 that had hung too long on the stem. She'd run across 
 Sir Hunter in London, him bein' a widower that was 
 willin' to forget, and they'd made a go of it, nobody 
 knew why. I judged that Pinckney was some relieved 
 at the prospects of placin' a misfit. He'd laid out for 
 a little dinner at the club, just to introduce Sir Hunter 
 to his set and brace him up for bein' inspected by the 
 girl's aunt and other relations at some swell doin's 
 after. 
 
 I didn't pay much attention to their program at 
 the time. It wa'n't any of my funeral who Pinckney 
 married off his leftover second cousins to; and by 
 evenin' I'd clean forgot all about T wiggle; when 
 Pinckney 'phones he'd be obliged if I could step around 
 to a Broadway hotel right off, as he's in trouble. 
 
 Pinckney meets me just inside the plate glass merry 
 105
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 go round. " Something is the matter with Sir Hun- 
 ter," says he, " and I can't find out from his f ^o\ man 
 what it is." 
 
 " Before we gets any deeper let's clear the ground," 
 says I. " When you left him, was he soused, or only 
 damp around the edges ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's not that at all," says Pinckney. " Sir Hun- 
 ter is a gentleman er, with a wonderful capacity." 
 
 " The Hippodrome tank's got that too," I says ; " but 
 there's enough fancy drinks mixed on Broadway every 
 afternoon to run it over." 
 
 Sir Hunter has a set of rooms on the 'leventh floor. 
 He wa'n't in sight, but we digs up Rinkey. By the 
 looks, he'd just escaped from the chorus of a musical 
 comedy, or else an Italian bakery. Near as I could 
 make out he didn't have any proper clothes on at all, 
 but was just done up in white buntin' that was wrapped 
 and draped around him, like a parlour lamp on movin' 
 day. The spots of him that you could see, around the 
 back of his neck and the soles of his feet, was the 
 colour of a twenty-cent maduro cigar. He was spread 
 out on the rug with his heels toward us and his head 
 on the sill of the door leadin' into the next room. 
 
 " Back up, Pinckney ! " says I. " This must be a 
 coloured prayer meetin' we're buttin' into." 
 
 " No, it's all right," says Pinckney. " That is Sir 
 Hunter's man, Ringhi Singh." 
 
 106
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 " Sounds like a coon song," says I. " But he's 
 no valet. He's a cook; can't you see by the 
 cap?" 
 
 " That's a turban," says Pinckney. " Sir Hunter 
 brought Ringhi from India, and he wears his native 
 costume." 
 
 " Gee ! " says I. " If that's his reg'lar get up, he's 
 got Mark Twain's Phoebe Snow outfit beat a mile. 
 But does Rinkey always rest on his face when he sits 
 down ? " 
 
 " It's that position which puzzles me," says Pinck- 
 ney. "All I could get out of him was that Sahib 
 Twiggle was in bed, and wouldn't see anyone." 
 
 " Oh, then the heathen is wise to United States talk, 
 is he ? " says I. 
 
 " He understands English, of course," says Pinck- 
 ney, " but he declines to talk." 
 
 " That's easy fixed," says I, reachin' out and grab- 
 bin' Rinkey by the slack of his bloomers. " Maybe his 
 conversation works is out of kink," and I up ends 
 Rinkey into a chair. 
 
 " Be careful ! " Pinckney sings out. " They're 
 treachous chaps." 
 
 I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he was the 
 mildest choc'late cream you ever saw. He slumped 
 there on the chair, shiverin' as if he had a chill comin' 
 on, and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit. He was so
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 scared he didn't know the day of the month from the 
 time of night. 
 
 " Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, " and act sociable. 
 Now tell the gentleman what's ailin' your boss." 
 
 It was like talkin' into a 'phone when the line's out 
 of business. Rinkey goes on sendin' Morse wireless 
 with his teeth, and never unloosens a word. 
 
 " Look here, Br'er S;ngh," says I, " you ain't get- 
 tin' any third degree yet! Cut out the ague act and 
 give Mr. Pinckney the straight talk. He's got a date 
 here and wants to know why the gate is up." 
 
 More silence from Rinkey. 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " I expect it ain't etiquette to 
 jump the outside guard ; but if we're goin' to get next 
 to Sir Hunter, it looks like we had to announce our- 
 selves. Here goes ! " 
 
 I starts for the inside door; but I hadn't got my 
 knuckles on the panel before Rinkey was givin' 
 me the knee tackle and splutterin' all kinds of lan- 
 guage. 
 
 " Hey ! " says I. " Got the cork out, have you ? " 
 
 With that Rinkey gets up and beckons us over into 
 the far corner. 
 
 " The lord sahib," says he, rollin' his eyes at the 
 bed room door " the lord sahib desire that none 
 should come near. He is in great anger." 
 
 "What's he grouchy about? " says I. 
 108
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 " The lord sahib," says he, " will destroy to death 
 poor Ringhi Singh if he reveals." 
 
 " Destroy to death is good," says I ; " but it don't 
 sound convincin'. I think we're bein' strung." 
 
 Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets a good grip 
 on Rinkey's neck. 
 
 " Come off ! " says I. " As a liar you're too am- 
 bitious. You tell us what's the matter with your boss, 
 or I'll do things to you that'll make bein' destroyed to 
 death seem like fallin' on a feather bed ! " 
 
 And it come, quick. " Yes, sahib," says he. " It 
 is that there has been lost beyond finding the lord 
 sahib's glorious eye." 
 
 " Sizzlin' sisters ! Another pane gone ! " says I. 
 " This must be my eye retrievin' day, for sure." 
 
 But Pinckney takes it mighty serious. He says that 
 the dinner at the club don't count for so much, but that 
 the other affair can't be sidetracked so easy. It seems 
 that the girl has lived through one throw down, when 
 the feller skipped off to Europe just as the tie-up was 
 to be posted, and it wouldn't do to give her a second 
 scare of the same kind. 
 
 Rinkey was mighty reluctant about goin' into de- 
 tails, but we gets it out of him by degrees that the 
 lord sahib has a habit, when he's locked up alone, of 
 unscrewin' the fake lamp and puttin' it away in a box 
 full of cotton battin'. 
 
 109
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Always in great secret," says Rinkey ; " for the 
 lord sahib would not disclose. But I have seen, which 
 was an evil thing oh, very evil ! To-night it was 
 done as before; but when it was time for the return, 
 alas! the box was down side up on the floor and the 
 glorious eye was not anywhere. Search! We look 
 into everything, under all things. Then comes a great 
 rage on the lord sahib, and I be sore from it in many 
 places." 
 
 " That accounts for your restin' on your face, eh ? " 
 says I. " Well, Pinckney, what now ? " 
 
 " .Why," says he, " we've simply got to get a sub- 
 stitute eye. I'll wait here while you go out and buy 
 another." 
 
 " Say, Pinckney," I says, " if you was goin' down 
 Broadway at eight-thirty p. M., shoppin' for glass eyes, 
 iwhere'd you hit first? Would you try a china store, 
 or a gent's furnishin's place? " 
 
 " Don't they have them at drug stores ? " says Pinck- 
 ney. 
 
 " I never seen any glass eye counters in the ones I 
 go to," says I. And then, right in the midst of our 
 battin' our heads, I comes to. 
 
 " Oh, splash ! " says I. " Pinckney, if anyone asks 
 you, don't let on what a hickory head I am. Why, 
 I've got a glass eye that Sir Hunter can have the loan 
 of over night, just as well as not." 
 
 no
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 " You ! " says Pinckney, lookin' wild. 
 
 " Sure thing," says I. " It's a beaut, too. Can't a 
 feller own a glass eye without wearin' it ? " 
 
 " But where is it ? " says Pinckney. 
 
 " It's with Snick Butters," says I. " He's usin' it, I 
 expect. Fact is, it was built for Snick, but I hold a 
 gilt edged first mortgage, and all I need to do to fore- 
 close is say the word. Come on. Just as soon as we 
 find Snick you can run back and fix up Sir Hunter as 
 good as new." 
 
 " Do you think you can find him ? " says Pinckney. 
 
 " We've got to find him," says I. " I'm gettin in- 
 terested in this game." 
 
 Snick was holdin' down a chair in the smokin' room 
 at the Gilsey. He grins when he sees me, but when I 
 puts it up to him about callin' in the loose lens for 
 over night his jaw drops. 
 
 " Just my luck," says he. " Here I've got bill board 
 seats for the Casino and was goin' to take the news- 
 stand girl to the show as soon as she can get off." 
 
 " Sorry, Snick," says I, " but this is a desperate case. 
 Won't she stand for the green curtain ? " 
 
 " S-s-sh ! " says he. " She don't know a thing about 
 that. I'll have to call it off. Give me two minutes, 
 will you ? " 
 
 That was Snick, all over losin' out just as easy as 
 some folks wins. When he comes back, though, and 
 
 in
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 I tells him what's doin', he says he'd like to know just 
 where the lamp was goin', so he could be around after 
 it in the mornin'. 
 
 " Sure," says I. " Bring it along up with you, then 
 there won't be any chance of our losin' it." 
 
 So all three of us goes back to the hotel. Pinckney 
 wa'n't sayin' a word, actin' like he was kind of dazed, 
 but watchin' Snick all the time. As we gets into the 
 elevator, he pulls me by the sleeve and whispers : 
 
 " I say, Shorty, which one is it ? " 
 
 " The south one," says I. 
 
 It wasn't till we got clear into Sir Hunter's recep- 
 tion room, under the light, that Pinckney heaves up 
 something else. 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " says he, starin' at Snick. " Beg par- 
 don for mentioning it, but yours is a er you have 
 blue eyes, haven't you, Mr. Butters? " 
 
 " That's right," says Snick. 
 
 "And Sir Hunter's are brown. It will never do," 
 says he. 
 
 " Ah, what's the odds at night ? " says I. " Maybe 
 the girl's colour blind, anyway." 
 
 " No," says Pinckney, " Sir Hunter would never 
 do it. Now, if you only knew of some one with 
 a" 
 
 " I don't," says I. " Snick's the only glass eyed 
 friend I got on my repertoire. It's either his or none. 
 
 112
 
 RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP 
 
 You send Rinkey in to ask Twiggle if a blue one 
 won't do on a pinch." 
 
 Mr. Rinkey didn't like the sound of that program a 
 bit, and he goes to clawin' around my knees, beggin' 
 me not to send him in to the lord sahib. 
 
 " G'wan ! " says I, pushin' him off. " You make me 
 feel as if I was bein' measured for a pair of leggin's. 
 Skiddo!" 
 
 As I gives him a shove my finger catches in the 
 white stuff he has around his head, and it begins to 
 unwind. I'd peeled off about a yard, when out rolls 
 somethin' shiny that Snick spots and made a grab 
 for. 
 
 " Hello ! " says he. " What's this ? " 
 
 It was the stray brown, all right. That Kipling 
 coon has had it stowed away all the time. Well say, 
 there was lively doin's in that room for the next few 
 minutes; me tryin' to get a strangle hold on Rinkey, 
 and him doin' his best to jump through a window, 
 chairs bein' knocked over, Snick hoppin' around tryin' 
 to help, and Pinckney explainin' to Sir Hunter through 
 the keyhole what it was all about. 
 
 When it was through we held a court of inquiry. 
 And what do you guess ? That smoked Chinaman had 
 swiped it on purpose, thinkin' if he wore it on the back 
 of his head he could see behind him. Wouldn't that 
 grind you? 
 
 "3
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 But it all comes out happy. Sir Hunter was a little 
 late for dinner, but he shows up two eyed before the 
 girl, makes a hit with her folks, and has engaged Snick 
 to give him private lessons on how to make a fake 
 optic behave like the real goods.
 
 VIII 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 SAY, when it comes to gettin' himself tangled up in 
 ways that nobody ever thought of before, you can play 
 Pinckney clear across the board. But I never knew 
 him to send out such a hard breathin' hurry call as 
 the one I got the other day. It come first thing in the 
 mornin' too, just about the time Pinckney used to be 
 tearin' off the second coupon from the slumber card. 
 I hadn't more'n got inside the Studio door before 
 Swifty Joe says: 
 
 " Pinckney's been tryin' to get you on the wire." 
 
 " Gee ! " says I, " he's stayin' up late last night ! 
 Did he leave the number ? " 
 
 He had, and it was a sixty-cent long distance call ; 
 so the first play I makes when I rings up is to reverse 
 the charge. 
 
 " That you, Shorty ? " says he. " Then for good- 
 ness' sake come up here on the next train ! Will you ? " 
 
 " House afire, bone in your throat, or what? " says I. 
 
 " It's those twins," says he. 
 
 " Bad as that ? " says I. " Then I'll come." 
 
 Wa'n't I tellin' you about the pair of mated orphans 
 
 "5
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 that was shipped over to him unexpected; and how 
 Miss Gertie, the Western blush rose that was on the 
 steamer with 'em, helps him out? Well, the last I 
 hears, Pinckney is gone on Miss Gertie and gettin' 
 farther from sight every minute. He's planned it out 
 to have the knot tied right away, hire a furnished cot- 
 tage for the summer, and put in the honeymoon get- 
 tin' acquainted with the ready made family that they 
 starts in with. Great scheme! Suits Pinckney right 
 down to the ground, because it's different. He be- 
 gins by accumulatin' a pair of twins, next he finds a 
 girl and then he thinks about gettin' married. By the 
 way he talked, I thought it was all settled ; but hearin* 
 this whoop for help I suspicioned there must be some 
 hitch. 
 
 There wa'n't any carnation in his buttonhole when 
 he meets me at the station ; he hasn't shaved since the 
 day before ; and there's trouble tracks on his brow. 
 
 " Can't you stand married life better'n this ? " says I. 
 
 " Married ! " says he. " No such luck. I never ex- 
 pect to be married, Shorty ; I'm not fit." 
 
 " Is this a decision that was handed you, or was it 
 somethin' you found out for yourself?" says I. 
 
 " It's my own discovery," says he. 
 
 " Then there's hope," says I. " So the twins have 
 been gettin' you worried, eh? Where's Miss Gertie? " 
 
 That gives Pinckney the hard luck cue, and while 
 116
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 we jogs along towards his new place in the tub cart 
 he tells me all about what's been happenin'. First off 
 he owns up that he's queered his good start with Miss 
 Gertie by bein' in such a rush to flash the solitaire 
 spark on her. She ain't used to Pinckney's jumpy 
 ways. They hadn't been acquainted much more'n a 
 week, and he hadn't gone through any of the pre- 
 lim's, when he ups and asks her what day it will be 
 and whether she chooses church or parsonage. Course 
 she shies at that, and the next thing Pinckney knows 
 she's taken a train West, leavin' him with the twins on 
 his hands, and a nice little note sayin' that while she 
 appreciates the honour she's afraid he won't do. 
 
 " And you're left at the post? " says I. 
 
 " Yes," says he. " I couldn't take the twins and 
 follow her, but I could telegraph. My first message 
 read like this, ' What's the matter with me ? ' Here 
 is her answer to that," and he digs up a yellow en- 
 velope from his inside pocket. 
 
 " Not domestic enough. G." It was short and 
 crisp. 
 
 He couldn't give me his come back to that, for he 
 said it covered three blanks ; but it was meant to be an 
 ironclad affidavit that he could be just as domestic as 
 the next man, if he only had a chance. 
 
 "And then?" says I. 
 
 "Read it," says he, handin' over Exhibit Two. 
 117
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " You have the chance now," it says. " Manage the 
 twins for a month, and I will believe you." 
 
 And that was as far as he could get. Now, first 
 and last, I guess there's been dozens of girls, not count- 
 in' all kinds of widows, that's had their lassoes out for 
 Pinckney. He's been more or less interested in some ; 
 but when he really runs across one that's worth tag- 
 gin' she does the sudden duck and runs him up against 
 a game like this. 
 
 " And you're tryin' to make good, eh ? " says I. 
 " What's your program ? " 
 
 For Pinckney, he hadn't done so worse. First he 
 hunts up the only aunt he's got on his list. She's a 
 wide, heavy weight old girl, that's lost or mislaid 
 a couple of husbands, but hasn't ever had any kids of 
 her own, and puts in her time goin' to Europe and 
 comin' back. She was just havin' the trunks checked 
 for Switzerland when Pinckney locates her and tells 
 how glad he is to see her again. Didn't she want to 
 change her plans and stay a month or so with him and 
 the twins at some nice place up in Westchester? One 
 glimpse of Jack and Jill with their comp'ny manners 
 on wins her. Sure, she will ! 
 
 So it's up to Pinckney to hire a happy home for 
 the summer, all found. Got any idea of how he 
 tackles a job like that? Most folks would take a 
 week off and do a lot of travelling sizin' up different 
 
 118
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 joints. They'd want to know how many bath rooms, 
 if there was malaria, and all about the plumbin', and 
 what the neighbours was like. But livin' at the club 
 don't put you wise to them tricks: Pinckney, he just 
 rings up a real estate agent, gets him to read off a list, 
 says, " I'll take No. 3," and it's all over. Next day 
 they move out. 
 
 Was he stung? Well, not so bad as you'd think. 
 Course, he's stuck about two prices for rent, and he 
 signs a lease without readin' farther than the " Where- 
 as " ; but, barrin' a few things like haircloth furniture 
 and rooms that have been shut up so long they smell 
 like the subcellars in a brewery, he says the ranch 
 wa'n't so bad. The outdoors was good, anyway. 
 There was lots of it, acres and acres, with trees, and 
 flower gardens, and walks, and fish ponds, and every- 
 thing you could want for a pair of youngsters that 
 needed room. I could see that myself. 
 
 " Say, Pinckney," says I, as we drives in through 
 the grounds, " if you can't get along with Jack and Jill 
 in a place of this kind you'd better give up. Why, 
 all you got to do is to turn 'em loose." 
 
 " Wait ! " says he. " You haven't heard it all." 
 
 " Let it come, then," says I. 
 
 " We will look at the house first," says he. 
 
 The kids wa'n't anywhere in sight; so we starts 
 right in on the tour of inspection. It was a big, old, 
 
 119
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 slate roofed baracks, with jigsaw work on the eaves, 
 and a lot of dinky towers frescoed with lightnin' rods. 
 There was furniture to match, mostly the marble 
 topped, black walnut kind, that was real stylish back 
 in the '/o's. 
 
 In the hall we runs across Snivens. He was the 
 butler ; but you wouldn't guess it unless you was told. 
 Kind of a cross between a horse doctor and a mis- 
 sionary, I should call him one of these short legged, 
 barrel podded gents, with a pair of white wind harps 
 framin' up a putty coloured face that was ornamented 
 with a set of the solemnest lookin' lamps you ever saw 
 off a stuffed owl. 
 
 " Gee, Pinckney ! " says I, " who unloaded that on 
 you!" 
 
 " Snivens came with the place," says he. 
 
 " He looks it," says I. " I should think that face 
 would sour milk. Don't he scare the twins ? " 
 
 " Frighten Jack and Jill? " says Pinckney. " Not if 
 he had horns and a tail ! They seem to take him as a 
 joke. But he does make all the rest of us feel creepy." 
 
 " Why don't you write him his release ? " says I. 
 
 " Can't," says Pinckney. " He is one of the con- 
 ditions in the contract he and the urns." 
 
 " The urns ? " says I. 
 
 " Yes," says Pinckney, sighin' deep. " We are 
 coming to them now. There they are." 
 
 120
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 With that we steps into one of the front rooms, and 
 he lines me up before a white marble mantel that is 
 just as cheerful and tasty as some of them pieces in 
 Greenwood Cemetery. On either end was what looks 
 to be a bronze flower pot. 
 
 " To your right," says Pinckney, " is Grandfather ; 
 to your left, Aunt Sabina." 
 
 "What's the josh?" says I. 
 
 " Shorty," says he, heavin' up another sigh, " you 
 are now in the presence of sacred dust. These urns 
 contain the sad fragments of two great Van Rusters." 
 
 " Fragments is good," says I. " Couldn't find many 
 to keep, could they? Did they go up with a powder 
 mill, or fall into a stone crusher?" 
 
 " Cremated," says Pinckney. 
 
 Then I gets the whole story of the two old maids 
 that Pinckney rented the place from. They were the 
 last of the clan. In their day the Van Rusters had 
 headed the Westchester battin' list, ownin' about half 
 the county and gettin' their names in the paper reg'lar. 
 But they'd been peterin' out for the last hundred years 
 or so, and when it got down to the Misses Van Rus- 
 ters, a pair of thin edged, old battle axes that had 
 never wore anything but crape and jet bonnets, there 
 wa'n't much left of the estate except the mortgages 
 and the urns. 
 
 Rentin' the place furnished was the last card in the 
 121
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 box, and Pinckney turns up as the willin' victim. 
 When he comes to size up what he's drawn, and has 
 read over the lease, he finds he's put his name to a 
 lot he didn't dream about. Keepin' Snivens on the 
 pay roll, promisin' not to disturb the urns, usin' the 
 furniture careful, and havin' the grass cut in the pri- 
 vate buryin' lot was only a few that he could think of 
 off hand. 
 
 " You ain't a tenant, Pinckney," says I ; " you're a 
 philanthropist." 
 
 "I feel that way," says he. "At first, I didn't 
 know which was worse, Snivens or the urns. But I 
 know now it is the urns. They are driving me to 
 distraction." 
 
 " Ah, do a lap ! " says I. " Course, I give in that 
 there might be better parlour ornaments than potted 
 ancestors, specially when they belong to someone 
 else; but they don't come extra, do they? I thought 
 it was the twins that was worryin' you ? " 
 
 " That is where the urns come in," says he. " Here 
 the youngsters are now. Step back in here and 
 watch." 
 
 He pulls me into the next room, where we could 
 see through the draperies. There's a whoop and a 
 hurrah outside, the door bangs, and in tumbles the 
 kids, with a nurse taggin' on behind. The youngsters 
 makes a bee line for the mantelpiece and sings out: 
 
 122
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 " Hello, Grandfather ! Hello, Aunt Sabina ! Look 
 what we brought this time!" 
 
 " Stop it ! Stop it ! " says the nurse, her eyes bug- 
 gin' out. 
 
 " Boo ! Fraid cat ! " yells the twins, and nursy 
 skips. Then they begins to unload the stuff they've 
 lugged in, pilin' it up alongside the urns, singin' out 
 like auctioneers, " There's some daisies for Aunt 
 Sabina! And wild strawberries for Grandfather! 
 And a mud turtle for aunty! And a bird's nest for 
 Grandfather ! " windin' up the performance by joinin' 
 hands and goin' through a reg'lar war dance. 
 
 Pinckney explains how this was only a sample of 
 what had been goin' on ever since they heard Snivens 
 tellin' what was in the urns. They'd stood by, listen- 
 in' with their mouths and ears wide open, and then 
 they'd asked questions until everyone was wore out 
 tryin' to answer 'em. But the real woe came when the 
 yarn got around among the servants and they begun 
 leavin' faster'n Pinckney's Aunt Mary could send out 
 new ones from town. 
 
 " Maybe the kids'll get tired of it in a few days," 
 says I. 
 
 " Exactly what I thought," says Pinckney ; " but 
 they don't. It's the best game they can think of, and 
 if I allow them they will stay in here by the hour, 
 cutting up for the benefit of Grandfather and Aunt 
 
 123
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Sabina. It's morbid. It gets on one's nerves. My 
 aunt says she can't stand it much longer, and if she 
 goes I shall have to break up. If you're a friend of 
 mine, Shorty, you'll think of some way to get those 
 youngsters interested in something else." 
 
 " Why don't you buy 'em a pony cart ? " says I. 
 
 " I've bought two," says he ; " and games and candy 
 and parrots and mechanical toys enough to stock a 
 store. Still they keep this thing up." 
 
 " And if you quit the domestic game, the kids have 
 to go to some home, and you go back to the club ? " 
 says I. 
 
 " That's it," says he. 
 
 " And when Miss Gertie comes on, and finds you've 
 renigged, it's all up between you and her, eh ? " 
 says I. 
 
 Pinckney groans. 
 
 " G'wan ! " says I. " Go take a sleep." 
 
 With that I steps in and shows myself to the kids. 
 They yells and makes a dash for me. Inside of two 
 minutes I've been introduced to Grandfather and Aunt 
 Sabina, made to do a duck before both jars, and am 
 planted on the haircloth sofa with a kid holdin' either 
 arm, while they puts me through the third degree. 
 They want information. 
 
 "Did you ever see folks burned and put in jars?" 
 says Jack. 
 
 124
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 "No," says I; "but I've seen pickled ones jugged. 
 I hear you've got some ponies." 
 
 " Two," says Jill ; " spotted ones. Would you want 
 to be burned after you was a deader? " 
 
 " Better after than before," says I. " Where's the 
 ponies now ? " 
 
 " What do the ashes look like?" says Jack. 
 
 " Are there any clinkers? " says Jill. 
 
 Say, I was down and out in the first round. For 
 every word I could get in about ponies they got in 
 ten about them bloomin' jars, and when I leaves 'em 
 they was organism' a circus, with Grandfather and 
 Aunt Sabina supposed to be occupyin' the reserved 
 seats. Honest, it was enough to chill the spine of a 
 morgue keeper. By good luck I runs across Snivens 
 snoopin' through the hall. 
 
 " See here, you ! " says I. " I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir," says he, backin' off, real stiff 
 and dignified ; " but " 
 
 " Ah, chuck it ! " says I, reachin' out and gettin' 
 hold of his collar, playful like. " You've been listen- 
 in' at the door. Now what do you think of the way 
 them kids is carryin' on in there? " 
 
 " It's outrageous, sir ! " says he, puffin' up his cheeks, 
 " It's scandalous ! They're young imps, so they are, 
 sir." 
 
 " Want to stop all that nonsense ? " says I. 
 125
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 He says he does. 
 
 "Then," says I, "you take them jars down cellar 
 and hide 'em in the coal bin." 
 
 He holds up both hands at that. " It can't be done, 
 sir," says he. " They've been right there for twenty 
 years without bein' so much as moved. They were 
 very superior folks, sir, very superior." 
 
 " Couldn't you put 'em in the attic, then ? " says I. 
 
 He couldn't. He says it's in the lease that the 
 jars wa'n't to be touched. 
 
 " Snivens," says I, shovin' a twenty at him, " forget 
 the lease." 
 
 Say, he looks at that yellowback as longin' as an 
 East Side kid sizin' up a fruit cart. Then he gives a 
 shiver and shakes his head. " Not for a thousand, 
 sir," says he. " I wouldn't dare." 
 
 "You're an old billygoat, Snivens," says I. 
 
 And that's all the good I did with my little whirl 
 at the game ; but I tries to cheer Pinckney up by tellin' 
 him the kids wa'n't doin' any harm. 
 
 " But they are," says Pinckney. " They're raising 
 the very mischief with my plans. The maids are 
 scared to death. They say the house is haunted. Four 
 of them gave notice to-day. Aunt Mary is packing 
 her trunks, and that means that I might as well give 
 up. I'll inquire about a home to send them to this 
 afternoon." 
 
 126
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 I guess it was about four o'clock, and I was tryin' 
 to take a snooze in a hammock on the front porch, 
 when I hears the twins makin' life miserable for the 
 gard'ner that was fixin' the rose bushes. 
 
 " Lemme dig, Pat," says Jill. 
 
 " G'wan, ye young tarrier ! " says Pat. 
 
 " Can't I help some ? " says Jack. 
 
 " Yes, if ye'll go off about a mile," says Pat. 
 
 " Why don't the roses grow any more ? " asks Jill. 
 
 " It's needin' ashes on 'em they are," says Pat. 
 
 " Ashes ! " says Jack. 
 
 "Ashes!" says Jill. 
 
 Then together, " Oh, we know where there's ashes 
 lots!" 
 
 " We'll fetch 'em ! " says Jill, and with that I hears 
 a scamperin' up the steps. 
 
 I was just gettin' up to chase after 'em, when I 
 has another thought. " What's the use, anyway ? " 
 thinks I. " It's their last stunt." So I turns over 
 and pretends to snooze. 
 
 When Pinckney shows up about six the twins has 
 the pony carts out and is doin' a chariot race around 
 the drive, as happy and innocent as a couple of pink 
 angels. Then they eats their supper and goes to bed, 
 with nary a mention of sayin' good-night to the jars, 
 like they'd been in the habit of doin'. Next mornin' 
 they gets up as frisky as colts and goes out to play 
 
 127
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 wild Indians in the bushes. They was at it all the 
 forenoon, and never a word about Grandfather and 
 Aunt Sabina. Pinckney notices it, but he don't dare 
 speak of it for fear he'll break the spell. About two 
 he comes in with a telegram. 
 
 " Miss Gertie's coming on the four o'clock train," 
 says he, lookin' wild. 
 
 " You don't act like you was much tickled," says I. 
 
 " She's sure to find out what a muss I've made of 
 things," says he. " The moment she gets here I expect 
 the twins will start up that confounded rigmarole 
 about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina again. Oh, I 
 can hear them doing it ! " 
 
 I let it go at that. But while he's away at the 
 station the kitchen talk breaks loose. The cook and 
 two maids calls for Aunt Mary, tells her what they 
 think of a place that has canned spooks in the par- 
 lour, and starts for the trolley. Aunt Mary gets her 
 bonnet on and has her trunks lugged down on the 
 front porch. That's the kind of a reception we has 
 for Miss Gertrude and her mother when they show up. 
 
 "Anything particular the matter? " whispers Pinck- 
 ney to me, as he hands the guests out of the carriage. 
 
 " Nothin' much," says I. " Me and Snivens and 
 the twins is left. The others have gone or are goin'." 
 
 "What is the matter?" says Miss Gertie. 
 
 " Everything," says Pinckney. " I've made a flat 
 128
 
 PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS 
 
 failure. Shorty, you bring in the twins and we'll end 
 this thing right now." 
 
 Well, I rounds up Jack and Jill, and after they've 
 hugged Miss Gertie until her travelin' dress is fixed 
 for a week at the cleaners', Pinckney leads us all into 
 the front room. The urns was there on the mantel; 
 but the kids don't even give 'em a look. 
 
 " Come on, you young rascals ! " says he, as des- 
 perate as if he was pleadin' guilty to blowin' up a safe. 
 " Tell Miss Gertrude about Grandfather and Aunt 
 Sabina." 
 
 " Oh," says Jack, " they're out in the flower bed." 
 
 " We fed 'em to the rose bushes," says Jill. 
 
 " We didn't like to lose 'em," says Jack ; " but Pat 
 needed the ashes." 
 
 " It's straight goods/' says I ; " I was there." 
 
 And say, when Miss Gertrude hears the whole 
 yarn about the urns, and the trouble they've made 
 Pinckney, she stops laughin' and holds out one hand 
 to him over Jill's shoulder. 
 
 " You poor boy ! " says she. " Didn't you ever read 
 Omar's 
 
 " I sometimes think that never blows so red 
 The rose, as where some buried Caesar bled ' ? " 
 
 Say, who was this duck Omar? And what's that 
 got to do with fertilisin' flower beds with the pulver- 
 
 129
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 ised relations of your landladies? I give it up. All 
 I know is that Pinckney's had them jars refilled with 
 A-i wood ashes, that Aunt Mary managed to 'phone 
 up a new set of help before mornin', and that when 
 I left Pinckney and Miss Gertie and the twins was 
 strollin' about, holdin' hands and lookin' to be havin' 
 the time of their lives. 
 
 Domestic? Say, a clear Havana Punko, made in 
 Connecticut, ain't in it with him. 
 
 130
 
 IX 
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 WHAT'S the use of travelin', when there's more fun 
 stayin' home? Scenery? Say, the scenery that suits 
 me best is the kind they keep lit up all night. There's 
 a lot of it between I4th-st. and the park. Folks? 
 Why, you stand on the corner of 42d and Broadway 
 long enough and you won't miss seein' many of 'em. 
 They most all get here sooner or later. 
 
 Now, look at what happens last evenin'. I was just 
 leanin' up against the street door, real comfortable and 
 satisfied after a good dinner, when Swifty Joe comes 
 down from the Studio and says there's a party by the 
 name of Merrity been callin' me up on the 'phone. 
 
 " Merrity ? " says I. " That sounds kind of joyous 
 and familiar. Didn't he give any letters for the front 
 of it?" 
 
 " Nothin' but Hank," says Swifty. 
 
 "Oh, yes," says I, gettin' the clue. "What did 
 Hank have to say ? " 
 
 " Said he was a friend of yours, and if you didn't 
 have nothin' better on the hook he'd like to see you 
 around the Wistoria/' says Swifty.
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 With that I lets loose a snicker. Honest, I couldn't 
 help it. 
 
 "Ah, chee! " says Svvifty. " Is it a string, or not? 
 I might get a laugh out of this myself." 
 
 " Yes, and then again you mightn't," says I. " May- 
 be it'd bring on nothin' but a brain storm. You wait 
 until I find out if it's safe to tell you." 
 
 With that I starts down towards 34th-st. to see if 
 it was really so about Hank Merrity; for the last 
 glimpse I got of him he was out in Colorado, wearin' 
 spurs and fringed buckskin pants, and lookin' to be 
 as much of a fixture there as Pike's Peak. 
 
 It was while I was trainin' for one of my big 
 matches, that I met up with Hank. We'd picked out 
 Bedelia for a camp. You've heard of Bedelia? No? 
 Then you ought to study the map. Anyway, if you'd 
 been followin' the sportin' news reg'lar a few years 
 back, you'd remember. There was a few days about 
 that time when more press despatches was filed from 
 Bedelia than from Washington. And the pictures 
 that was sent east ; " Shorty Ropin' Steers " " Mr. 
 McCabe Swingin' a Bronco by the Tail," and all such 
 truck. You know the kind of stuff them newspaper 
 artists strains their imaginations on. 
 
 Course, I was too busy to bother about what they 
 did to me, and didn't care, anyway. But it was dif- 
 ferent with Hank. Oh, they got him too! You see, 
 
 132
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 he had a. ranch about four miles north of our camp, 
 and one of my reg'lar forenoon stunts was to gallop 
 up there, take a big swig of mountain spring water 
 better'n anything you can buy in bottles chin a 
 few minutes with Hank and the boys, and then dog 
 trot it back. 
 
 That was how the boss of Merrity's ranch came 
 to get his picture in the sportin' page alongside of a 
 diagram of the four different ways I had of peeliii 
 a boiled potato. Them was the times when I took my 
 exercise with a sportin' editor hangin' to each elbow, 
 and fellows with drawin' pads squattin' all over the 
 place. Just for a josh I lugged one of the papers that 
 had a picture of Hank up to the ranch, expectin' when 
 he saw it, he'd want to buckle on his guns and start 
 down after the gent that did it. 
 
 You couldn't have blamed him much if he had ; for 
 Hank's features wa'n't cut on what you might call 
 classic lines. He looked more like a copy of an old 
 master that had been done by a sign painter on the 
 side of a barn. Not that he was so mortal homely, but 
 his colour scheme was kind of surprisin'. His com- 
 plexion was a shade or two lighter than a new saddle, 
 except his neck, which was a flannel red, with lovely 
 brown speckles on it ; and his eyes was sort of butter- 
 milk blue, with eyebrows that you had to guess at 
 His chief decoration though, was a lip whisker that 
 
 133
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 was a marvel one of these ginger coloured droopers 
 that took root way down below his mouth corners and 
 looked like it was there to stay. 
 
 But up on the ranch and down in Bedelia I never 
 heard anyone pass remarks on Hank Merrity's looks. 
 He wa'n't no bad man either, but as mild and gentle 
 a beef raiser as you'd want to see. He seemed to be 
 quite a star among the cow punchers, and after I'd 
 got used to his peculiar style of beauty I kind of took 
 to him, too. 
 
 The picture didn't r'ile him a bit. He sat there 
 lookin' at it for a good five minutes without sayin' a 
 word, them buttermilk eyes just starin', kind of blank 
 and dazed. Then he looks up, as pleased as a kid, 
 and says, " Wall, I'll be cussed ! Mighty slick, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 Next he hollers for Reney that was Mrs. Merrity. 
 She was a good sized, able bodied wild rose, Reney 
 was; not such a bad looker, but a little shy on style. 
 A calico wrapper with the sleeves rolled up, a lot of 
 crinkly brown hair wavin' down her back, and an old 
 pair of carpet slippers on her feet, was Reney's morn- 
 in' costume. I shouldn't wonder but what it did for 
 afternoon and evenin' as well. 
 
 Mrs. Merrity was more tickled with the picture than 
 Hank. She stared from the paper to him and back 
 again, actin' like she thought Hank had done some- 
 
 134
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 thin' she ought to be proud of, but couldn't exactly 
 place. 
 
 "Sho, Hank!" says she. "I wisht they'd waited 
 until you'd put on your Sunday shirt and slicked up a 
 little." 
 
 He was a real torrid proposition when he did slick 
 up. I saw him do it once, a couple of nights before 
 I broke trainin', when they was goin' to have a dance 
 up to the ranch. His idea of makin' a swell toilet was 
 to take a hunk of sheep tallow and grease his boots 
 clear to the tops. Then he ducks his head into the 
 horse trough and polishes the back of his neck with a 
 bar of yellow soap. Next he dries himself off on a 
 meal sack, uses half a bottle of scented hair oil on 
 his Buffalo Bill thatch, pulls on a striped gingham 
 shirt, ties a red silk handkerchief around his throat, 
 and he's ready to receive comp'ny. I didn't see Mrs. 
 Merrity after she got herself fixed for the ball; but 
 Hank told me she was goin' to wear a shirt waist that 
 she'd sent clear to Kansas City for. 
 
 Oh, we got real chummy before I left. He came 
 down to see me off the day I started for Denver, and 
 while we was waitin' for the train he told me the 
 story of his life: How he'd been rustlin' for himself 
 ever since he'd graduated from an orphan asylum in 
 Illinois ; the different things he'd worked at before he 
 learned the cow business; and how, when he'd first 
 
 135
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 met Reney slingin' crockery in a railroad restaurant, 
 and married her on sight, they'd started out with a 
 cash capital of one five-dollar bill and thirty-eight 
 cents in change, to make their fortune. Then he told 
 me how many steers and yearlings he owned, and how 
 much grazin' land he'd got inside of wire. 
 
 " That's doin' middlin' well, ain't it? " says he. 
 
 Come to figure up, it was, and I told him I didn't 
 see why he wa'n't in a fair way to find himself cuttin' 
 into the grape some day. 
 
 " It all depends on the Jayhawker," says he. " I've 
 got a third int'rest in that. Course, I ain't hollerin' 
 a lot about it yet, for it ain't much more'n a hole 
 in the ground; but if they ever strike the yellow 
 there maybe we'll come on and take a look at New 
 York." 
 
 " It's worth it," says I. " Hunt me up when you 
 do." 
 
 " I shore will," says Hank. " Good luck ! " 
 
 And the last I see of him he was standin' there in 
 his buckskin pants, gawpin' at the steam cars. 
 
 Now, I ain't been spendin' my time ever since won- 
 derin' what was happenin' to Hank. You know how 
 it is. Maybe I've had him in mind two or three times. 
 But when I gets that 'phone message I didn't have any 
 trouble about callin' up my last view of him. So, 
 when it come to buttin' into a swell Fifth-ave. hotel 
 
 136
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 and askin' for Hank Merrity, I has a sudden spasm 
 of bashfulness. It didn't last long. 
 
 " If Hank was good enough for me to chum with 
 in Bedelia," says I, " he ought to have some standin' 
 with me here. There wa'n't anything I could have 
 asked that he wouldn't have done for me out there, 
 and I guess if he needs some one to show him where 
 Broadway is, and tell him to take his pants out of his 
 boot tops, it's up to me to do it." 
 
 Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers 
 it confidential to the clerk. If he'd come back with a 
 hee-haw I wouldn't have said a word. I was ex- 
 pectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. 
 He don't even grin. 
 
 " Hank Merrity ? " says he, shakin' his head. " We 
 have a guest here, though, by the name of Henry 
 Merrity Mr. Henry Merrity." 
 
 " That's him," says I. " All the Henrys are Hanks 
 when you get west of Omaha. Where'll I find 
 him?" 
 
 I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with 
 the electric light buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride 
 down in the elevator; but there was no answer to the 
 call on the house 'phone ; so I has to wait while a boy 
 goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', " Mis- 
 ter Merrity ! Mis-ter Merrity ! " Five minutes later I 
 was towed through the palms into the Turkish smokin' 
 
 137
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 room, and the next thing I knew I was lined up in 
 front of a perfect gent. 
 
 Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, 
 you never could have made me believe it was him. 
 Honest, them eyes was all there was left of the Hank 
 Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the 
 clothes, either, though he had 'em all on, op'ra lid, 
 four-button white vest, shiny shoes, and the rest, 
 it was what had happened to his face that was stun- 
 nin' me. 
 
 The lip drooper had been wiped out not just 
 shaved off, mind you, but scrubbed clean. The russet 
 colour was gone, too. He was as pink and white and 
 smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sand- 
 papered for a window display in a meat shop. You've 
 noticed that electric light complexion some of our 
 Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank had it. 
 Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch. 
 
 Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, 
 at that ; but as he stood, costume and all, he looked as 
 much a part of New York as the Flatiron Buildin'. 
 And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' my 
 mouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me 
 on the back. 
 
 " Why, hello, Shorty ! I'm mighty glad to see you. 
 Put 'er there ! " says he. 
 
 "Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess 
 138
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 the thing for me to do is to own up to Maude Adams 
 that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it ? " 
 
 "Did what? "says he. 
 
 " Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth- 
 ave. gloss ? " says I. 
 
 "Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I 
 pass?" 
 
 " Pass ! " says I. " Hank, they could use you for 
 a sign. Lookin' as you do now, you could go to any 
 one night stand in the country and be handed the 
 New York papers without sayin' a word. What I 
 want to know, though, is how it happened ? " 
 
 " Happen ? " says he. " Shorty, such things don't 
 come by accident. You buy 'em. You go through 
 torture for 'em." 
 
 " Say, Hank," says I, " you don't mean to say you've 
 been up against the skinologists ? " 
 
 Well, he had. They'd kept his face in a steam box 
 by the hour, scrubbed him with pumice stone, electro- 
 cuted his lip fringe, made him wear a sleepin' mask, 
 and done everything but peel him alive. 
 
 " Look at that for a paw ! " says he. " Ain't it lady- 
 like?" 
 
 It was. Every fingernail showed the half moon, 
 and the palm was as soft as a baby's. 
 
 " You must have been makin' a business of it," says 
 J. " How long has this thing been goin' on ? " 
 
 139
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Nearly four months," says Hank, heavin' a groan. 
 " Part of that time I put in five hours a day ; but I've 
 got 'em scaled down to two now. It's been awful, 
 Shorty, but it had to be done." 
 
 "How was that?" says I. 
 
 " On Reney's account," says he. " She's powerful 
 peart at savvyin' things, Reney is. Why, when we 
 struck town I was wearin' a leather trimmed hat and 
 eatin' with my knife, just as polite as I knew how. 
 We hadn't been here a day before she saw that some- 
 thing was wrong. ' Hank,' says she, ' this ain't where 
 we belong. Let's go back.' ' What for ? ' says I. 
 ' Shucks ! ' says she. * Can't you see ? These folks 
 are different from us. Look at 'em ! ' Well, I did, 
 and it made me mad. ' Reney,' says I, ' I'll allow there 
 is something wrong with us, but I reckon it ain't 
 bone deep. There's such a thing as burnin' one brand 
 over another, ain't there? Suppose we give it a 
 whirl ? ' That's what we done too, and I'm beginnin' 
 to suspicion we've made good." 
 
 " I guess you have, Hank," says I ; " but ain't it ex- 
 pensive ? You haven't gone broke to do it, have you ? " 
 
 " Broke ! " says he, smilin'. " Guess you ain't heard 
 what they're takin' out of the Jayhawker these days. 
 Why, I couldn't spend it all if I had four hands. But 
 come on. Let's find Reney and go to a show some- 
 wheres." 
 
 140
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 Course, seein' Hank had kind of prepared me for 
 a change in Mrs. Merrily ; so I braces myself for the 
 shock and tries to forget the wrapper and carpet slip- 
 pers. But you know the kind of birds that roost along 
 Peacock Alley ? There was a double row of 'em hold- 
 in' down the arm chairs on either side of the corridor, 
 and lookin' like a livin' exhibit of spring millinery. 
 I tried hard to imagine Reney in that bunch; but it 
 was no go. The best I could do was throw up a pic- 
 ture of a squatty female in a Kansas City shirt waist. 
 And then, all of a sudden, we fetches up alongside a 
 fairy in radium silk and lace, with her hair waved 
 to the minute, and carryin' enough sparks to light up 
 the subway. She was the star of the collection, and 
 I nearly loses my breath when Hank says : 
 
 " Reney, you remember Shorty McCabe, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Ah, rully!" says she liftin' up a pair of gold 
 handled eye glasses and takin' a peek. " Chawmed 
 to meet you again, Mr. McCabe." 
 
 " M-m-me too," says I. It was all the conversation 
 I had ready to pass out. 
 
 Maybe I acted some foolish; but for the next few 
 minutes I didn't do anything but stand there, sizin' 
 her up and inspectin' the improvements. There hadn't 
 been any half way business about her. If Hank was 
 a good imitation, Mrs. Merrity was the real thing. 
 
 141
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 She was it. I've often wondered where they all came 
 from, them birds of Paradise that we see floatin' 
 around such places; but now I've got a line on 'em. 
 They ain't all raised in New York. It's pin spots on 
 the map like Bedelia that keeps up the supply. 
 
 Reney hadn't stopped with takin' courses at the 
 beauty doctors and goin' the limit on fancy clothes. 
 She'd been plungin' on conversation lessons, voice 
 culture, and all kind of parlour tricks. She'd been 
 keepin' her eyes and ears open too, takin' her models 
 from real life; and the finished product was some- 
 thin' you'd say had never been west of Broadway or 
 east of Fourth-ave. As for her ever doin' such a 
 thing as juggle crockery, it was almost a libel to think 
 of it. 
 
 " Like it here in town, do you ? " says I, firm' it at 
 both of 'em. 
 
 " Like it ! " says Hank. " See what it's costin* us. 
 We got to like it." 
 
 She gives him a look that must have felt like an 
 icicle slipped down his neck. " Certainly we enjoy 
 New York," says she. " It's our home, don'cha 
 know." 
 
 " Gosh ! " says I. I didn't mean to let it slip out, 
 but it got past me before I knew. 
 
 Mrs. Merrity only raises her eyebrows and smiles, 
 as much as to say, " Oh, what can one expect ? " 
 
 142
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 That numbs me so much I didn't have life enough 
 to back out of goin' to the theatre with 'em, as Hank 
 had planned. Course, we has a box, and it wasn't 
 until she'd got herself placed well up in front and was 
 lookin' the house over through the glasses that I gets 
 a chance for a few remarks with Hank. 
 
 " Is she like that all the time now ? " I whispers. 
 
 " You bet 1 " says he. " Don't she do .it good? " 
 
 Say, there wa'n't any mistakin' how the act hit 
 Hank. " You ought to see her with her op'ra rig 6n, 
 though tiara, and all that," says he. 
 
 "Go reg'lar?" says I. 
 
 " Tuesdays and Fridays," says he. " We leases the 
 box for them nights." 
 
 That gets me curious to know how they puts in 
 their time, so I has him give me an outline. It was 
 something like this: Coffee and rolls at ten-thirty 
 A. M.; hair dressers, manicures, and massage artists 
 till twelve-thirty; drivin' in the brougham till two; 
 an hour off for lunch; more drivin' and shoppin' till 
 five; nap till six; then the maids and valets and so 
 on to fix 'em up for dinner ; theatre or op'ra till eleven ; 
 supper at some swell cafe; and the pillows about two 
 A. M. 
 
 Then the curtain goes up for the second act, and I 
 see Hank had got his eyes glued on the stage. As 
 we'd come late, I hadn't got the hang of the piece be- 
 
 143
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 fore, but now I notices it's one of them gunless Wild 
 West plays that's hit Broadway so hard. It was a 
 breezy kind of a scene they showed up. To one side 
 was an almost truly log cabin, with a tin wash basin 
 hung on a nail just outside the front door and some 
 real firewood stacked up under the window. Off up 
 the middle was mountains piled up, one on top of the 
 other, clear up into the flies. 
 
 The thing didn't strike me at first, until I hears 
 Hank dig up a sigh that sounds as if it started from 
 his shoes. Then I tumbles. This stage settin' was 
 almost a dead ringer for his old ranch out north of 
 Bedelia. In a minute in comes a bunch of stage 
 cowboys. They was a lot cleaner lookin' than any 
 I ever saw around Merrity's, and some of 'em was 
 wearin' misfit whiskers ; but barrin' a few little points 
 like that they fitted into the picture well enough. 
 Next we hears a whoop, and in bounces the leadin' 
 lady, rigged out in beaded leggin's, knee length skirt, 
 leather coat, and Shy Ann hat, with her red hair flyin' 
 loose. 
 
 Say, I'm a good deal of a come-on when it comes 
 to the ranch business, but I've seen enough to know 
 that if any woman had showed up at Merrity's place 
 in that costume the cow punchers would have blushed 
 into their hats and took for the timber line. I looks 
 at Hank, expectin' to see him wearin' a grin; but he 
 
 144
 
 'WE E E OUGH ! GLORY BE 1 ." YKLLS HANK, LETTIN' 
 OUT AN EARSPL1TTER
 
 A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY 
 
 wa'n't. He's 'most tarin' his eyes out, lookin' at them 
 painted mountains and that four-piece log cabin. And 
 would you believe it, Mrs. Merrity was doin' the same ! 
 I couldn't see that either of 'em moved durin' the 
 whole act, or took their eyes off that scenery, and when 
 the curtain goes down they just naturally reaches out 
 and grips each other by the hand. For quite some 
 time they didn't say a word. Then Reney breaks the 
 spell. 
 
 " You noticed it, didn't you, Hank ? " says she. 
 
 " Couldn't help it, Reney ! " says he huskily. 
 
 " I expect the old place is looking awful nice, just 
 about now," she goes on. 
 
 Hank was swallowin' hard just then, so all he could 
 do was nod, and a big drop of brine leaks out of one 
 of them buttermilk blue eyes. Reney saw it. 
 
 " Hank," says she, still grippin' his hand and talkin' 
 throaty " let's quit and go back ! " 
 
 Say, maybe you never heard one of them flannel 
 shirts call the cows home from the next county. A 
 lot of folks who'd paid good money to listen to a weak 
 imitation was treated to the genuine article. 
 
 " We-e-e-ough ! Glory be ! " yells Hank, jumpin' 
 up and knockin' over a chair. 
 
 It was an ear splitter, that was. Inside of a minute 
 there was a special cop and four ushers makin' a rush 
 for the back of our box. 
 
 145
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Here, here now ! " says one. " You'll have to 
 leave." 
 
 " Leave ! " says Hank. " Why, gol dura you white 
 faced tenderfeet, you couldn't hold us here another 
 minute with rawhide ropes ! Come on, Reney ; maybe 
 there's a night train ! " 
 
 They didn't go quite so sudden as all that. Reney 
 got him to wait until noon next day, so she could 
 fire a few maids and send a bale or so of Paris gowns 
 to the second hand shop; but they made me sit up 
 till 'most mornin' with 'em, while they planned out the 
 kind of a ranch de luxe they was goin' to build when 
 they got back to Bedelia. As near as I could come to 
 it, there was goin' to be four Chinese cooks always 
 standin' ready to fry griddle cakes for any neighbours 
 that might drop in, a dance hall with a floor of polished 
 mahogany, and not a bath tub on the place. What 
 they wanted was to get back among their old friends, 
 put on their old clothes, and enjoy themselves in their 
 own way for the rest of their lives.
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 SAY, I don't know whether I'll ever get to be a 
 reg'lar week-ender or not, but I've been makin' an- 
 other stab at it. What's the use ownin' property in 
 the country house belt if you don't use it now and 
 then? So last Saturday, after I shuts up the Studio, 
 I scoots out to my place in Primrose Park. 
 
 Well, I puts in the afternoon with Dennis Whaley, 
 who's head gardener and farm superintendent, and 
 everything else a three-acre plot will stand for. Then, 
 about supper time, as I'm just settlin' myself on the 
 front porch with my heels on the stoop rail, wonderin' 
 how folks can manage to live all the time where nothin' 
 ever happens, I hears a chug-chuggin', and up the 
 drive rolls a cute little one-seater bubble, with nobody 
 abroad but a Boston terrier and a boy. 
 
 " Chee ! " thinks I, " they'll be givin' them gasolene 
 carts to babies next. Wonder what fetches the kid 
 in here?" 
 
 Maybe he was a big ten or a small twelve; any- 
 way, he wa'n't more. He's one of these fine haired, 
 light complected youngsters, that a few years ago 
 would have had yellow Fauntleroy curls, and been 
 
 147
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 rigged out in a lace collar and a black velvet suit, 
 and had a nurse to lead him around by the hand. 
 But the new crop of young Astergould Thickwads 
 is bein' trained on different lines. This kid was a good 
 sample. His tow coloured hair is just long enough 
 to tousle nice, and he's bare headed at that. Then 
 he's got on corduroy knickers, a khaki jacket, black 
 leather leggin's, and gauntlet gloves, and he looks al- 
 most as healthy as if he was poor. 
 
 " Hello, youngster ! " says I. " Did you lose the 
 shuffer overboard ? " 
 
 " Beg pardon," says he ; " but I drive my own 
 machine." 
 
 " Oh ! " says I. " I might have known by the cos- 
 tume." 
 
 By this time he's standin' up with his hand to his 
 ear, squintin' out through the trees to the main road, 
 like he was listenin' for somethin'. In a second he 
 hears one of them big six-cylinder cars go hummin' 
 past, and it seems to be what he was waitin' for. 
 
 " Coin' to stop, are you ?" says I. 
 
 " Thank you," says he, " I will stay a little while, 
 if you don't mind," and he proceeds to shut off the 
 gasolene and climb out. The dog follows him. 
 
 " Givin' some one the slip ? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, no," says he real prompt. " I I've been in 
 a race, that's all." 
 
 148
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 " Ye-e-es ? " says I. " Had a start, didn't you ? " 
 
 " A little," says he. 
 
 With that he sits down on the steps, snuggles the 
 terrier up alongside of him, and begins to look me 
 and the place over careful, without sayin' any more. 
 Course, that ain't the way boys usually act, unless 
 they've got stage fright, and this one didn't seem at 
 all shy. As near as I could guess, he was thinkin' 
 hard, so I let him take his time. I figures out from 
 his looks, and his showin' up in a runabout, that he's 
 come from some of them big country places near by, 
 and that when he gets ready he'll let out what he's 
 after. Sure enough, pretty soon he opens up. 
 
 " .Wouldn't you like to buy the machine, sir? " says 
 he. 
 
 " Selling out, are you ? " says I. " Well, what's your 
 askin' price for a rig of that kind ? " 
 
 He sizes me up for a minute, and then sends out a 
 feeler. " Would five dollars be too much ? " 
 
 " No," says I, " I shouldn't call that a squeeze, pro- 
 yidin' you threw in the dog." 
 
 He looks real worried then, and hugs the terrier 
 up closer than ever. " I couldn't sell Togo," says 
 he. " You you wouldn't want him too, would 
 you?" 
 
 When I sees that it wouldn't take much more to 
 get them big blue eyes of his to leakin', I puts him 
 
 149
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 easy on the dog question. " But what's your idea of 
 sellin' the bubble ? " says I. 
 
 " Why," says he, " I won't need it any longer. I'm 
 going to be a motorman on a trolley car." 
 
 " That's a real swell job," says I. " But how will 
 the folks at home take it ? " 
 
 " The folks at home ? " says he, lookin' me straight 
 in the eye. " Why, there aren't any. I haven't any 
 home, you know." 
 
 Honest, the way he passed out that whopper was 
 worth watchin'. It was done as cool and scientific 
 as a real estate man takin' oath there wa'n't a mos- 
 quito in the whole county. 
 
 " Then you're just travelin' around loose, eh? " says 
 I. " Where'd you strike from to-day ? " 
 
 " Chicago," says he. 
 
 " Do tell ! " says I. " That's quite a day's run. You 
 must have left before breakfast." 
 
 " I had breakfast early," says he. 
 
 " Dinner in Buffalo? " says I. 
 
 " I didn't stop for dinner," says he. 
 
 " In that case er what's the name ? " says I. 
 
 " Mister Smith," says he. 
 
 " Easy name to remember," says I. 
 
 " Ye-e-es. I'd rather you called me Gerald, 
 though," says he. 
 
 "Good," says I. "Well, Gerald, seein' as you've
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 made a long jump since breakfast, what do you say 
 to grubbin' up a little with me, eh ? " 
 
 That strikes him favourable, and as Mother Whaley 
 is just bringin' in the platter, we goes inside and sits 
 down, Togo and all. He sure didn't fall to like a 
 half starved kid; but maybe that was because he was 
 so busy lookin' at Mrs. Whaley. She ain't much on 
 the French maid type, that's a fact. Her uniform is 
 a checked apron over a faded red wrapper, and she 
 has a way of puggin' her hair up in a little knob that 
 makes her face look like one of the kind they cut out 
 of a cocoanut. 
 
 Gerald eyes her for a while ; then he leans over to me 
 and whispers, " Is this the butler's night off? " 
 
 " Yes," says I. " He has seven a week. This is 
 one of 'em." 
 
 After he's thought that over he grins. " I see," 
 says he. " You means you haven't a butler ? Why, I 
 thought everyone did." 
 
 " There's a few of us struggles along without," says 
 I. " We don't brag about it, though. But where do 
 you keep your butler now, Mr. Gerald ? " 
 
 That catches him with his guard down, and he be- 
 gins to look mighty puzzled. 
 
 " Oh, come," says I, " you might's well own up. 
 You've brought the runaway act right down to the 
 minute, son; but barrin' the details, it's the same old
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 game. I done the same when I was your age, only in- 
 stead of runnin' off in a thousand-dollar bubble, I 
 sneaked into an empty freight car." 
 
 " Did you ? " says he, his eyes openin' wide. " Was 
 it nice, riding in the freight car?" 
 
 " Never had so much fun out of a car ride since," 
 says I. " But I was on the war path then. My out- 
 fit was a blank cartridge pistol, a scalpin' knife hooked 
 from the kitchen, and a couple of nickel lib'ries that 
 told all about Injun killin'. Don't lay out to slaughter 
 any redskins, do you ? " 
 
 He looks kind of weary, and shakes his head. 
 
 " Well, runnin' a trolley car has its good points, I 
 s'pose," says I ; " but I wouldn't tackle it for a year 
 or so if I was you. You'd better give me your 'phone 
 number, and I'll ring up the folks, so they won't be 
 worryin' about you." 
 
 But say, this Gerald boy, alias Mr. Smith, don't fall 
 for any smooth talk like that. He just sets his jaws 
 hard and remarks, quiet like, " I guess I'd better be 
 going." 
 
 "Whereto?" says I. 
 
 " New Haven ought to be a good place to sell the 
 machine," says he. " I can get a job there too." 
 
 At that I goes to pumpin' him some more, and he 
 starts in to hand out the weirdest line of yarns I ever 
 listened to. Maybe he wa'n't a very skilful liar, but 
 
 152
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 he was a willin' one. Quick as I'd tangle him up on 
 one story, he'd lie himself out and into another. He 
 accounts for his not havin' any home in half a dozen 
 different ways, sometimes killin' off his relations one 
 by one, and then bunchin' 'em in a railroad wreck or 
 an earthquake. But he sticks to Chicago as the place 
 where he lived last, although the nearest he can get to 
 the street number is by sayin' it was somewhere near 
 Central Park. 
 
 " That happens to be in New York," says I. 
 
 " There are two in Chicago," says he. 
 
 " All right, Gerald," says I. " I give up. We'll let 
 it go that you're playin' a lone hand; but before you 
 start out again you'd better get a good night's rest 
 here. What do you say ? " 
 
 He didn't need much urgin' ; so we runs the bubble 
 around into the stable, and I tucks him and Togo away 
 together in the spare bed. 
 
 " Who's the little lad ? " says Dennis to me. 
 
 " For one thing," says I, " he's an honourary mem- 
 ber of the Ananias Club. If I can dig up any more 
 information between now and mornin', Dennis, I'll 
 let you know." 
 
 First I calls up two or three village police stations 
 along the line ; but they hadn't had word of any stray 
 kid. 
 
 "That's funny," thinks I. "If he'd lived down 
 153
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 in Hester-st, there'd be four thousand cops huntin' 
 him up by this time." 
 
 But it wa'n't my cue to do the frettin'; so I lets 
 things rest as they are, only takin' a look at the kid 
 before I turns in, to see that he was safe. And say, 
 that one look gets me all broke up; for when I tip- 
 toes in with the candle I finds that pink and white 
 face of his all streaked up with cryin', and he has one 
 arm around Togo, like he thought that terrier was all 
 the friend he had left. 
 
 Gee ! but that makes me feel mean ! Why, if I'd 
 known he was goin' to blubber himself to sleep that 
 way, I'd hung around and cheered him up. He'd 
 been so brash about this runaway business, though, 
 that I never suspicioned he'd go to pieces the minute 
 he was left alone. And they look different when 
 they're asleep, don't they? I guess I must have put 
 in the next two hours' wonderin' how it was that a 
 nice, bright youngster like that should come to quit 
 home. If he'd come from some tenement house, where 
 it was a case of pop bein' on the island, and maw 
 rushin* the can and usin' the poker on him, you 
 wouldn't think anything of it. But here he has his 
 bubble, and his high priced terrier, and things like 
 that, and yet he does the skip. Well, there wa'n't any 
 answer. 
 
 Not hearin' him stirrin' when I gets up in the morn- 
 154
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 in', I makes up my mind to let him snooze as long as 
 he likes. So I has breakfast and goes out front with 
 the mornin' papers. It got to be after nine o'clock, 
 and I was just thinkin' of goin' up to see how he was 
 gettin' on, when I sees a big green tourin' car come 
 dashin' down into the park and turn into my front 
 drive. There was a crowd in it ; but, before I can get 
 up, out flips a stunnin' lookin' bunch of dry goods, all 
 veils and silk dust coat, and wants to know if I'm 
 Shorty McCabe: which I says I am. 
 
 " Then you have my boy here, have you ? " she shoots 
 out. And, say, by the suspicious way she looks at 
 me, you'd thought I'd been breakin' into some nursery. 
 I'll admit she was a beaut, all right ; but the hard look 
 I gets from them big black eyes didn't win me for a 
 cent. 
 
 " Maybe if I knew who you was } ma'am," says I, 
 " we'd get along faster." 
 
 That don't soothe her a bit. She gives me one 
 glare, and then whirls around and shouts to a couple 
 of tough lookin' bruisers that was in the car. 
 
 " Quick ! " she sings out. " Watch the rear and side 
 doors. I'm sure he's here." 
 
 And the mugs pile out and proceed to plant them- 
 selves around the house. 
 
 " Sa-a-ay," says I, " this begins to look excitin'. Is 
 it a raid, or what ? Who are the husky boys ? " 
 
 155
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Those men are in my employ," says she. 
 
 "Private sleut's?" says I. 
 
 " They are," says she, " and if you'll give up the 
 boy without any trouble I will pay you just twice 
 as much as you're getting to hide him. I'm going to 
 have him, anyway." 
 
 "Well, well!" says I. 
 
 And say, maybe you can guess by that time I was 
 feelin' like it was a warm day. If I'd had on a celluloid 
 collar, it'd blown up. Inside of ten seconds, I've 
 shucked my coat and am mixin' it with the plug that's 
 guardin' the side door. The doin's was short and 
 sweet. He's no sooner slumped down to feel what's 
 happened to his jaw than No. 2 come up. He acts 
 like he was ambitious to do damage, but the third 
 punch leaves him on the grass. Then I takes each of 
 'em by the ear, leads 'em out to the road, and gives 
 'em a little leather farewell to help 'em get under 
 way. 
 
 i " Sorry to muss your hired help, ma'am," says I, 
 comin' back to the front stoop ; " but this is one place 
 in the country where private detectives ain't wanted. 
 And another thing, let's not have any more talk about 
 me bein' paid. If there's anyone here belongin' to you, 
 you can have him and welcome; but cut out the hold 
 up business and the graft conversation. Now again, 
 what's the name?" 
 
 156
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 She was so mad she was white around the lips ; but 
 she's one of the kind that knows when she's up against 
 it, too. " I am Mrs. Rutgers Greene," says she. 
 
 " Oh, yes," says I. " From down on the point? " 
 
 " Mr. Greene lives at Orienta Point, I believe," says 
 she. 
 
 Now that was plain enough, wa'n't it? You 
 wouldn't think I'd need postin' on what they was 
 sayin' at the clubs, after that. But these high life 
 break-aways are so common you can't keep track of 
 all of 'em, and she sprung it so offhand that I didn't 
 more'n half tumble to what she meant. 
 
 " I suppose I may have Gerald now ? " she goes 
 on. 
 
 " Sure," says I. " I'll bring him down." And as 
 I skips up the stairs I sings out, " Hey, Mr. Smith ! 
 Your maw's come for you ! " 
 
 There was nothin' doin', though. I knocks on the 
 door, and calls again. Next I goes in. And say, it 
 wa'n't until I'd pawed over all the clothes, and looked 
 under the bed and into the closet, that I could believe 
 it. He must have got up at daylight, slipped down the 
 back way in his stockin' feet, and skipped. The note 
 on the wash stand clinches it. It was wrote kind of 
 wobbly, and the spellin' was some streaked ; but there 
 wa'n't any mistakin' what he meant. He was sorry 
 he had to tell so many whoppers, but he wa'n't ever 
 
 157
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 goin' home any more, and he was much obliged for 
 my tip about the freight car. Maybe my jaw didn't 
 drop. 
 
 " Thick head ! " says I, catchin' sight of myself in 
 the bureau glass. " You would get humorous ! " 
 
 When I goes back down stairs I find Mrs. Greene 
 pacin' the porch. " Well ? " says she. 
 
 I throws up my hands. " Skipped," says I. 
 
 " Do you mean to say he has gone ? " she snaps. 
 
 " That's the size of it/' says I. 
 
 " Then this is Rutgers's work. Oh, the beast ! " and 
 she begins stampin' her foot and bitin' her lips. 
 
 " That's where you're off," says I ; " this is a case 
 of " 
 
 But just then another big bubble comes dashin' up, 
 with four men in it, and the one that jumps out and 
 joins us is the main stem of the fam'ly. I could see 
 that by the way the lady turns her back on him. He's 
 a clean cut, square jawed young feller, and by the 
 narrow set of his eyes and the sandy colour of his hair 
 you could guess he might be some obstinate when it 
 came to an argument. But he begins calm enough. 
 
 " I'm Rutgers Greene," says he, " and at the police 
 station they told me Gerald was here. I'll take charge 
 of him, if you please." 
 
 " Have you brought a bunch of sleut's too ? " says I. 
 
 He admits that he has.
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 " Then chase 'em off the grounds before I has an- 
 other mental typhoon," says I. " Shoo 'em ! " 
 
 " If they're not needed," says he, " and you object 
 j. 
 
 "I do," says I. 
 
 So he has his machine run out to the road again. 
 
 " Now," says I, " seein' as this is a family affair " 
 
 " I beg pardon," puts in Greene ; " but you hardly 
 understand the situation. Mrs. Greene need not be 
 consulted at all." 
 
 " I've as much right to Gerald as you have ! " says 
 she, her eyes snappin' like a trolley wheel on a wet 
 night. 
 
 " We will allow the courts to decide that point," says 
 he, real frosty. 
 
 " I don't want to butt in on any tender little do- 
 mestic scene," says I ; " but if I was you two I'd find 
 the kid first. He's been gone since daylight." 
 
 "Gone!" says Greene. "Where?" 
 
 "There's no tellin' that," says I. "All I know 
 is that when he left here he was headed for the 
 railroad track, meanin' to jump a freight train 
 and " 
 
 " The railroad ! " squeals Mrs. Greene. " Oh, he'll 
 be killed ! Oh, Gerald ! Gerald ! " 
 
 Greene don't say a word, but he turns the colour 
 of a slice of Swiss cheese. 
 
 159
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 "Oh, what can we do?" says the lady, wringin' 
 her hands. 
 
 "Any of them detectives of yours know the kid 
 by sight ? " says I. 
 
 They didn't. Neither did Greene's bunch. They was 
 both fresh lots. 
 
 " Well," says I, " I'll own up that part of this is 
 up to me, and I won't feel right until I've made a 
 try to find him. I'm goin' to start now, and I don't 
 know how long I'll be gone. From what I've seen 
 I can guess that this cottage will be a little small for 
 you two ; but if you're anxious to hear the first returns, 
 I'd advise you to stay right here. So long ! " 
 
 And with that I grabs my hat and makes a dash 
 out the back way, leavin' 'em standin' there back to 
 back. I never tracked a runaway kid along a railroad, 
 and I hadn't much notion of how to start ; but I makes 
 for the rock ballast just as though I had the plan all 
 mapped out. 
 
 The first place I came across was a switch tower, 
 and I hadn't chinned the operators three minutes be- 
 fore I gets on to the fact that an east bound freight 
 usually passed there about six in the mornin', and 
 generally stopped to drill on the siding just below. 
 That was enough to send me down the track ; but there 
 wa'n't any traces of the kid. 
 
 " New Haven for me, then," says I, and by good 
 160
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 luck I catches a local. Maybe that was a comfortable 
 ride, watchin' out of the rear window for somethin' 
 I was hopin' I wouldn't see ! And when it was over I 
 hunts up the yard master and finds the freight I was 
 lookin' for was just about due. 
 
 " Expectin' a consignment ? " says he. 
 
 " Yes," says I. " I'm a committee of one to re- 
 ceive a stray kid." 
 
 " Oh, that's it, eh? " says he. " We get 'em 'most 
 every week. I'll see that you have a pass to over- 
 haul the empties." 
 
 After I'd peeked into about a dozen box cars, and 
 dug up nothin' more encouraging than a couple of 
 boozy 'boes, I begun to think my calculations was all 
 wrong. I was just slidin' another door shut when I 
 notices a bundle of somethin' over in the far corner. 
 I had half a mind not to climb in; for it didn't look 
 like anything alive, but I takes a chance at it for 
 luck, and the first thing I hears is a growl. The next 
 minute I has Togo by the collar and the kid up on my 
 arm. It was Gerald, all right, though he was that 
 dirty and rumpled I hardly knew him. 
 
 He just groans and grabs hold of me like he was 
 afraid I was goin' to get away. Why, the poor little 
 cuss was so beat out and scared I couldn't get a word 
 from him for half an hour. But after awhile I coaxed 
 him to sit up on a stool and have a bite to eat, and 
 
 161
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 when I've washed off some of the grime, and pulled 
 out a few splinters from his hands, we gets a train 
 back. First off I thought I'd 'phone Mr. and Mrs. 
 Greene, but then I changes my mind. " Maybe it'll 
 do 'em good to wait," thinks I. 
 
 We was half way back when Gerald looks up and 
 says, " You won't take me home, will you ? " 
 
 " What's the matter with home, kid ? " says I. 
 
 " Well," says he, and I could see by the struggle 
 he was havin' with his upper lip that it was comin' 
 out hard, " mother says father isn't a nice man, and 
 father says I mustn't believe what she says at all, 
 and and I don't think I like either of them well 
 enough to be their little boy any more. I don't like 
 being stolen so often, either." 
 
 " Stolen ! " says I. 
 
 " Yes," says he. " You see, when I'm with father, 
 mother is always sending men to grab me up and 
 take me off where she is. Then father sends men to 
 get me back, and and I don't believe I've got any 
 real home any more. That's why I ran away. 
 Wouldn't you?" 
 
 " Kid," says I, " I ain't got a word to say." 
 
 He was too tired and down in the mouth to do 
 much conversing either. All he wants is to curl up 
 with his head against my shoulder and go to sleep. 
 After he wakes up from his nap he feels better, and 
 
 162
 
 SHORTY AND THE STRAY 
 
 when he finds we're goin' back to my place he gets 
 quite chipper. All the way walkin' up from the 
 station I tries to think of how it would be best to break 
 the news to him about the grand household scrap that 
 was due to be pulled off the minute we shows up. I 
 couldn't do it, though, until we'd got clear to the 
 house. 
 
 " Now, youngster," says I, " there's a little surprise 
 on tap for you here, I guess. You walk up soft and 
 peek through the door." 
 
 For a minute I thought maybe they'd cleared out, 
 he was so still about it, so I steps up to rubber, too. 
 And there's Mr. and Mrs. Rutgers Greene, sittin' on 
 the sofa about as close as they could get, her weepin' 
 damp streaks down his shirt front, and him pattin' her 
 back hair gentle and lovin'. 
 
 " Turn off the sprayer ! " says I. " Here's the 
 kid!" 
 
 Well, we was all mixed up for the next few minutes. 
 They hugs Gerald both to once, and then they hugs 
 each other, and if I hadn't ducked just as I did I ain't 
 sure what would have happened to me. When I 
 comes back, half an hour later, all I needs is one glance 
 to see that a lot of private sleut's and court lawyers is 
 out of a job. 
 
 " Shorty," says Greene, givin' me the hearty grip, 
 
 " I don't know how I'm ever goin' to " 
 
 163
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Ah, lose it ! " says I. " It was just by a fluke I 
 got on the job, anyway. That's a great kid of yours, 
 eh?" 
 
 Did I say anything about Primrose Park bein* a 
 place where nothin' ever happened? Well, you can 
 scratch that. 
 
 164
 
 XI 
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 As a general thing I don't go much on looks, but I 
 will say that I've seen handsomer specimens than 
 Rossiter. He's got good height, and plenty of reach, 
 with legs branchin' out just under his armpits you 
 know how them clothespin fellers are built but when 
 you finish out the combination with pop eyes and a 
 couple of overhangin' front teeth Well, what's the 
 use ? Rossy don't travel on his shape. He don't have 
 to, with popper bossin' a couple of trunk lines. 
 
 When he first begun comin' to the Studio I sized 
 him up for a soft boiled, and wondered how he could 
 stray around town alone without havin' his shell 
 cracked. Took me some time, too, before I fell to the 
 fact that Rossy was wiser'n he looked ; but at that he 
 wa'n't no knowledge trust. 
 
 Just bein' good natured was Rossy's long suit. 
 Course, he couldn't help grinnin'; his mouth is cut 
 that way. There wa'n't any mistakin' the look in them 
 wide set eyes of his, though. That was the real article, 
 the genuine I'11-stand-for-anything kind. Say, you 
 could spring any sort of a josh on Rossy, and he 
 wouldn't squeal. He was one of your shy violets, too. 
 
 165
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Mostly he played a thinkin' part, and when he did talk, 
 he didn't say much. After you got to know 'him real 
 well, though, 'and was used to the way he looked, you 
 couldn't help likin' Rossiter. I'd had both him and the 
 old man as reg'lars for two or three months, and it's 
 natural I was more or less chummy with them. 
 
 So when Rossy shows up here the other mornin' and 
 shoves out his proposition to me, I don't think nothin' 
 of it. 
 
 " Shorty," says he, kind of flushin' up, " I've got a 
 favour to ask of you." 
 
 " You're welcome to use all I've got in the bank," 
 says I. 
 
 " It isn't money," says he, growin' pinker. 
 
 " Oh ! " says I, like I was a lot surprised. " Your 
 usin' the touch preamble made me think it was. 
 What's the go?"* 
 
 " I I can't tell you just now," says he ; " but I'd 
 like your assistance in a little affair, about eight o'clock 
 this evening. Where can I find you ? " 
 
 " Sounds mysterious," says I. " You ain't goin' up 
 against any Canfield game ; are you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I assure " he begins. 
 
 " That's enough," says I, and I names the particular 
 spot I'll be decoratin' at that hour. 
 
 " You won't fail ? " says he, anxious. 
 
 " Not unless an ambulance gets me," says I. 
 166
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 Well, I didn't go around battin' my head all the rest 
 of the day, tryin' to think out what it was Rossiter 
 had on the card. Somehow he ain't the kind you'd 
 look for any hot stunts from. If I'd made a guess, 
 maybe I'd said he wanted me to take him and a college 
 chum down to a chop suey joint for an orgy on li-chee 
 nuts an' weak tea. 
 
 So I wa'n't fidgetin' any that evenin', as I holds up 
 the corner of 42nd-st., passin' the time of day with the 
 Rounds, and watchin' the Harlem f&lks streak by to 
 the roof gardens. Right on the tick a hansom fetches 
 up at the curb, and I sees Rossiter givin' me the wig- 
 wag to jump in. 
 
 ' " You're runnin' on sked/' says I. " Where to 
 now ? " 
 
 " I think your Studio would be the best place," says 
 he, " if you don't mind." 
 
 I said I didn't, and away we goes around the corner. 
 As we does the turn I sees another cab make a wild 
 dash to get in front, and, takin' a peek through the 
 back window, I spots a second one followin'. 
 
 " Are we part of a procession ? " says I, pointin' 'em 
 out to him. 
 
 He only grins and looks kind of sheepish. " That's 
 the regular thing nowadays," says he. 
 
 " What ! Tin badgers ? " says I. 
 
 He nods. " They made me rather nervous at first," 
 167
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 he says ; " but after I'd been shadowed for a week or 
 so I got used to it, and lately I've got so I would feel 
 lost without them. To-night, though, they're rather a 
 nuisance. I thought you might help me to throw 
 them off the track." 
 
 "But who set 'em on?" says I. 
 
 " Oh, it's father, I suppose," says he ; not grouchy 
 mind you, but kind of tired. 
 
 " Why, Rossy ! " says I. " I didn't think you was 
 the sort that called for P. D. reports." 
 
 " I'm not," says he. " That's just father's way, you 
 know, when he suspects anything is going on that he 
 hasn't been told about. He runs his business that way 
 has a big force looking into things all the time. And 
 maybe some of them weren't busy ; so he told them to 
 look after me." 
 
 Well say ! I've heard some tough things about the 
 old man, but I never thought he'd carry a thing that 
 far. Why, there ain't any more sportin' blood in Ros- 
 siter than you'd look for in a ribbon clerk. Outside 
 of the little ladylike boxin' that he does with me, as 
 a liver regulator, the most excitin' fad of his I ever 
 heard of was collectin' picture postals. 
 
 Now, I generally fights shy of mixin' up in fam'ly 
 affairs, but someway or other I just ached to take a 
 hand in this. " Rossy," says I, " you're dead anxious 
 to hand the lemon to them two sleut's ; are you ? " 
 
 168
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 He said he was. 
 
 " And your game's all on the straight after that, is 
 it?" I says. 
 
 " Ton my honour, it is," says he. 
 
 " Then count me in," says I. " I ain't never had 
 any love for them sneak detectives, and here's where 
 I gives 'em a whirl." 
 
 But say, they're a slippery bunch. They must have 
 known just where we was headin', for by the time we 
 lands on the sidewalk in front of the physical culture 
 parlours, the man in the leadin' cab has jumped out 
 and faded. 
 
 " He will be watching on the floor above," says Ros- 
 siter, " and the other one will stay below." 
 
 " That's the way they work it, eh ? " says I. " Good ! 
 Come on in without lookin' around or lettin' 'em know 
 you're on." 
 
 We goes up to the second floor and turns on the 
 glim in the front office. Then I puts on a pair of gym. 
 shoes, opens the door easy, and tiptoes down the stairs. 
 He was just where I thought he'd be, coverin' up in 
 the shade of the vestibule. 
 
 " Caught with the goods on ! " says I, reachin' out 
 and gettin' a good grip on his neck. " No you don't ! 
 No gun play in this ! " and I gives his wrist a drack 
 with my knuckles that puts his shootin' arm out of 
 business. 
 
 169
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " You're makin' a mistake," says he. " I'm a pri- 
 vate detective." 
 
 " You're a third rate yegg," says I, " and you've 
 been nipped tryin' to pinch a rubber door mat." 
 
 " Here's my badge," says he. 
 
 " Anybody can buy things like that at a hock shop," 
 says I. " You come along up stairs till I see whether 
 or no it's worth while ringin' up a cop." 
 
 He didn't want to visit, not a little bit, but I was 
 behind, persuadin' him with my knee, and up he goes. 
 
 " Look at what the sneak thief business is comin' 
 to," says I, standin' him under the bunch light where 
 Rossiter could get a good look at him. He was a 
 shifty eyed low brow that you wouldn't trust alone in 
 a room with a hot quarter. 
 
 " My name is McGilty," says he. 
 
 " Even if it wa'n't, you could never prove an alibi 
 with that face," says I. 
 
 " If this young gent'll 'phone to his father," he goes 
 on, " he'll find that I'm all right." 
 
 " Don't you want us to call up Teddy at Oyster Bay? 
 Or send for your old friend Bishop Potter? Ah, say, 
 don't I look like I could buy fly paper without gettin' 
 stuck ? Sit down there and rest your face and hands." 
 
 With that I chucks him into a chair, grabs up a 
 hunk of window cord that I has for the chest weights, 
 and proceeds to do the bundle wrapping act on him. 
 
 170
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 Course, he does a lot of talkin', tellin' of the things 
 that'll happen to me if I don't let him go right off." 
 
 " I'll cheerfully pay all the expenses of a damage 
 suit, or fines, Shorty," says Rossiter. 
 
 " Forget it ! " says I. " There won't be anything 
 of the sort. He's lettin' off a little hot air, that's all. 
 Keep your eye on him while I goes after the other 
 one." 
 
 1 I collared Number Two squattin' on the skylight 
 stairs. For a minute or so he put up a nice little muss, 
 but after I'd handed him a swift one on the jaw he 
 forgot all about fightin' back. 
 
 "Attempted larceny of a tarred roof for yours," 
 says I. " Come down till I give you the third degree." 
 
 He didn't have a word to say ; just held onto his face 
 and looked ugly. I tied him up same's I had the other 
 and set 'em face to face, where they could see how 
 pretty they looked. Then I led Rossiter down stairs. 
 
 " Now run along and enjoy yourself," says I. " That 
 pair'll do no more sleut'in' for awhile. I'll keep 'em 
 half an hour, anyway, before I throws 'em out in the 
 street." 
 
 " I'm awfully obliged, Shorty/' says he. 
 
 " Don't mention it," says I. " It's been a pleasure." 
 
 That was no dream, either. Say, it did me most as 
 much good as a trip to Coney, stringin' them trussed 
 up keyhole gazers.
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Your names'll look nice in the paper," says I, " and 
 when your cases come up at Special Sessions maybe 
 your friends'll all have reserved seats. Sweet pair of 
 pigeon toed junk collectors, you are! " 
 
 If they wa'n't sick of the trailin' business before I 
 turned 'em loose, it wa'n't my fault. From the re- 
 marks they made as they went down the stairs I sus- 
 picioned they was some sore on me. But now and 
 then I runs across folks that I'm kind of proud to 
 have feel that way. Private detectives is in that class. 
 
 I was still on the grin, and thinkin' how real cute 
 I'd been, when I hears heavy steps on the stairs, and 
 in blows Rossiter's old man, short of breath and wall 
 eyed. 
 
 " Where's he gone ? " says he. 
 
 "Which one? "says I. 
 
 " Why, that fool boy of mine ! " says the old man. 
 " I've just had word that he was here less than an 
 hour ago." 
 
 " You got a straight tip," says I. 
 
 "Well, where did he go from here?" says he. 
 
 " I'm a poor guesser," says I, " and he didn't leave 
 any word ; but if you was to ask my opinion, I'd say 
 that most likely he was behavin' himself, wherever he 
 was." 
 
 " Huh ! " growls the old man. " That shows how 
 little you know about him. He's off being married, 
 
 172
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 prsbably to some yellow haired chorus girl; that's 
 where he is ! " 
 
 "What! Rossy?" says I. 
 
 Honest, I thought the old man must have gone 
 batty; but when he tells me the whole yarn I begins 
 to feel like I'd swallowed a foolish powder. Seems 
 that Rossiter's mother had been noticin' symptoms in 
 him for some time; but they hadn't nailed anything 
 until that evenin', when the chump butler turns in a 
 note that he shouldn't have let go of until next mornin'. 
 It was from Rossiter, and says as how, by the time she 
 reads that, he'll have gone and done it. 
 
 " But how do you figure out that he's picked a squab 
 for his'n ? " says I. 
 
 " Because they're the kind that would be most likely 
 to trap a young chuckle head like Rossiter," says the 
 old man. " It's what I've been afraid of for a long 
 time. Who else would be likely to marry him? 
 Come ! you don't imagine I think he's an Apollo, just 
 because he's my son, do you ? And don't you suppose 
 I've found out, in all these years, that he hasn't sense 
 enough to pound sand? But I can't stay here. I've 
 got to try and stop it, before it's too late. If you 
 think you can be of any help, you can come along." 
 
 Well say, I didn't see how I'd fit into a hunt of that 
 kind ; and as for knowin' what to do, I hadn't a thought 
 in my head just then; but seein' as how I'd butted in, 
 
 173
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 it didn't seem no more'n right that I should stay with 
 the game. So I tags along, and we climbs into the 
 old man's electric cab. 
 
 " We'll go to Dr. Piecrust's first, and see if he's 
 there," says he, " that being our church." 
 
 Well, he wa'n't. And they hadn't seen him at an- 
 other minister's that the old man said Rossy knew. 
 
 " If she was an actorine," says I, " she'd be apt to 
 steer him to the place where they has most of their 
 splicin' done. Why not try there ? " 
 
 " Good idea ! " says he, and we lights out hot foot 
 for the Little Church Around the Corner. 
 
 And say ! Talk about your long shots ! As we piles 
 out what should I see but the carrotty topped night 
 hawk that'd had Rossy and me for fares earlier in the 
 evenin'. 
 
 "You're a winner," says I to the old man. "It's 
 a case of waitin' at the church. Ten to one you'll 
 find Rossiter inside." 
 
 It was a cinch. Rossy was the first one we saw as 
 we got into the anteroom. 
 
 It wa'n't what you'd call a real affectionate meetin'. 
 The old man steps up and eyes him for a minute, like 
 a dyspeptic lookin' at a piece of overdone steak in a 
 restaurant, and then he remarks : " What blasted non- 
 sense is this, sir? " 
 
 174
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 "Why," says Rossy, shiftin' from one foot to the 
 other, and grinnin' foolisher'n I ever saw him grin 
 before " why, I just thought I'd get married, that's 
 all." 
 
 "That's all, eh?" says the old man, and you could 
 have filed a saw with his voice. " Sort of a happy in- 
 spiration of the moment, was it? " 
 
 "Well," says Rossy, "not not exactly that. I'd 
 been thinking of it for some time, sir." 
 
 " The deuce you say ! " says the old man. 
 
 " I I didn't think you'd object," says Rossy. 
 
 "Wow!" says the old man. He'd been holdin' in 
 a long spell, for him, but then he just boiled over. 
 " See here, you young rascal ! " says he. " What do 
 you mean by talking that way to me? Didn't think 
 I'd object ! D'ye suppose I'm anxious to have all New 
 York know that my son's been made a fool of? Think 
 your mother and I are aching to have one of these 
 bleached hair chorus girls in the family? Got her in- 
 side there, have you ? " 
 
 " iYes, sir/' says Rossy. 
 
 " Well, bring her out here ! " says the old man. 
 " I've got something to say to her." 
 
 "All right, sir," says Rossy. If there ever was a 
 time for throwin' the hooks into a parent, it was 
 then. But he's as good humoured and quiet about 
 
 175
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 it as though he'd just been handed a piece of peach 
 pie. " I'll bring her right out," says he. 
 
 When he comes in with the lady, the old man takes 
 one look at her and almost loses his treath for good. 
 
 " Eunice May Ogden ! " says he. " Why why on 
 earth didn't you say so before, Rossy? " 
 
 " Oh, hush ! " says the lady. " Do be still ! Can't 
 you see that we're right in the middle of an elope- 
 ment?" 
 
 Never saw Eunice May, did you ? Well, that's what 
 you miss by not travellin' around with the swells, same 
 as me. I had seen her. And say, she's somethin' of 
 a sight, too ! She's a prize pumpkin, Eunice is. May- 
 be she's some less'n seven feet in her lisle threads, but 
 she looks every inch of it ; and when it comes to curves, 
 she has Lillian Russell pared to a lamp post. She'd 
 be a good enough looker if she wa'n't such a whale. 
 As twins, she'd be a pair of beauts, but the way she 
 stands, she's most too much of a good thing. 
 
 Pinckney says they call her the Ogden sinking fund 
 among his crowd. I've heard 'em say that old man 
 Ogden, who's a little, dried up runt of about five 
 feet nothin', has never got over bein' surprised at the 
 size Eunice has growed to. When she was about four- 
 teen and weighed only a hundred and ninety odd, he 
 and Mother Ogden figured a lot on marryin' Eunice 
 into the House of Lords, like they did her sister, but 
 
 176
 
 WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE 
 
 they gave all that up when she topped the two hundred 
 mark. 
 
 Standin' there with Rossiter, they loomed up like a 
 dime museum couple ; but they was lookin' happy, and 
 gazin' at each other in that mushy way you know 
 how. 
 
 " Say," says Rossiter's old man, sizin' 'em up care- 
 ful, " is it all true ? Do you think as much of one 
 another as all that?" 
 
 There wa'n't any need of their sayin' so ; but Rossy 
 speaks up prompt for the only time in his life. He 
 told how they'd been spoons on each other for more'n 
 a year, but hadn't dared let on because they was 
 afraid of bein' kidded. It was the same way about 
 gettin' married. Course, their bein' neighbours on 
 the avenue, and all that, he must have known that the 
 folks on either side wouldn't kick, but neither one of 
 'em had the nerve to stand for a big weddin', so they 
 just made up their minds to slide off easy and have 
 it all through before anyone had a chance to give 
 'em the jolly. 
 
 " But now that you've found it out/' says Rossiter, 
 " I suppose you'll want us to wait and " 
 
 " Wait nothing ! " says the old man, jammin' on his 
 hat. " Don't you wait a minute on my account. Go 
 ahead with your elopement. I'll clear out. I'll go 
 up to the club and find Ogden, and when you 
 
 177
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 have had the knot tied good and fast, you come home 
 and receive a double barrelled blessing." 
 
 About that time the minister that they'd been waitin' 
 for shows up, and before I knows it I've been rung 
 in. Well, say, it was my first whack playin' back stop 
 at a weddin', and perhaps I put up a punk perform- 
 ance; but inside of half an hour the job was done. 
 
 And of all the happy reunions I was ever lugged 
 into, it was when Rossiter's folks and the Ogdens got 
 together afterwards. They were so tickled to get them 
 two freak left overs off their hands that they almost 
 adopted me into both families, just for the little stunt 
 I did in bilkin' them P. D.'s. 
 
 178
 
 XII 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 IF it hadn't been for givin' Chester a show to make 
 a gallery play, you wouldn't have caught me takin' 
 a bite out of the quince, the way I did the other night. 
 But say, when a young sport has spent the best part 
 of a year learnin' swings and ducks and footwork, and 
 when fancy boxin's about all the stunt he's got on his 
 program, it's no more'n right he should give an exhibi- 
 tion, specially if that's what he aches to do. And 
 Chester did have that kind of a longin'. 
 
 " Who are you plannin' to have in the audience, 
 Chetty?"saysl. 
 
 " Why," says he, " there'll be three or four of the 
 fellows up, and maybe some of the crowd that mother's 
 invited will drop in too." 
 
 " Miss Angelica likely to be in the bunch ? " says I. 
 
 Chester pinks up at that and tries to make out he 
 hadn't thought anything about Angelica's bein' there 
 at all. But I'd heard a lot about this particular young 
 lady, and when I sees the colour on Chester his 
 plan was as clear as if the entries was posted on a 
 board. 
 
 179
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " All right, Chetty," says I ; " have it any way you 
 say. I'll be up early Saturday night." 
 
 So that's what I was doin' in the smoker on the 
 five-nine, with my gym. suit and gaslight clothes in 
 a kit bag up on the rack. Just as they shuts the gates 
 and gives the word to pull out, in strolls the last man 
 aboard and piles in alongside of me. I wouldn't have 
 noticed him special if he hadn't squinted at the ticket 
 I'd stuck in the seat back, and asked if I was goin' 
 to get off at that station. 
 
 " I was thinkin' some of it when I paid my fare," 
 says I. 
 
 " Ah ! " says he, kind of gentle and blinkin' his eyes. 
 " That is my station, too. Might I trouble you to re- 
 mind me of the fact when we arrive?" 
 
 " Sure," says I; " I'll wake you up." 
 
 He gives me another blink, pulls a little readin' 
 book out of his pocket, slumps down into the seat, and 
 proceeds to act like he'd gone into a trance. 
 
 Say, I didn't need more'n one glimpse to size him 
 up for a freak. The Angora haircut was tag enough 
 reg'lar Elbert Hubbard thatch he was wearin', all 
 fluffy and wavy, and just clearin' his coat collar. That 
 and the artist's necktie, not to mention the eye glasses 
 with the tortoise shell rims, put him in the self adver- 
 tisin' class without his sayin' a word. 
 
 Outside of the frills, he wa'n't a bad lookin' chap, 
 180
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 and sizable enough for a 'longshoreman, only you could 
 tell by the lily white hands and the long fingernails 
 that him and toil never got within speakin' dis- 
 tance. 
 
 "Wonder what particular brand of mollycoddle he 
 is? "thinks I. 
 
 Now there wa'n't any call for me to put him through 
 the catechism, just because he was headed for the 
 same town I was ; but somehow I had an itch to take a 
 rise out of him. So I leans over and gets a peek at 
 the book. 
 
 " Readin' po'try, eh?" says I, swallowin' a grin. 
 
 " Beg pardon? " says he, kind of shakin' himself to- 
 gether. " Yes, this is poetry Swinburne, you know," 
 and he slumps down again as if he'd said all there was 
 to say. 
 
 But when I starts out to be sociable you can't head 
 me off that way. " Like it ? " says I. 
 
 " Why, yes," says he, " very much, indeed. Don't 
 you?" 
 
 He thought he had me corked there; but I comes 
 right back at him. " Nix ! " says I. " Swinny's stuff 
 always hit me as bein' kind of punk." 
 
 " Really ! " says he, liftin' his eyebrows. " Perhaps 
 you have been unfortunate in your selections. Now 
 take this, from the Anactoria " 
 
 And say, I got what was comin' to me then. He 
 181
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 tears off two or three yards of it, all about moonlight 
 and stars and kissin' and lovi*" 1 ', and a lot of gush like 
 that. Honest, it would give you an ache under your 
 vest! 
 
 " There ! " says he. " Isn't that beautiful imagery ? " 
 
 " Maybe," says I. " Guess I never happened to 
 light on that part before." 
 
 " But surely you are familiar with his Madonna 
 Mia? " says he. 
 
 " That got past me too," says I. 
 
 " It's here," says he, speakin' up quick. " Wait. 
 Ah, this is it ! " and hanged if he don't give me another 
 dose, with more love in it than you could get in a 
 bushel of valentines, and about as much sense as if 
 he'd been readin' the dictionary backwards. He does 
 it well, though, just as if it all meant something; and 
 me settin' there listenin' until I felt like I'd been 
 doped. 
 
 " Say, I take it all back," says I when he lets up. 
 " That Swinny chap maybe ain't quite up to Wallace 
 Irwin; but he's got Ella Wheeler pushed through the 
 ropes. I've got to see a friend in the baggage car, 
 though, and if you'll let me climb out past I'll speak 
 to the brakeman about puttin' you off where you 
 belong." 
 
 " You're very kind," says he. " Regret you can't 
 stay longer." 
 
 182
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 Was that a josh, or what? Anyway, I figures I'm 
 gettin' off easy, for there was a lot more of that blamed 
 book he might have pumped into me if I hadn't 
 ducked. 
 
 " Never again ! " says I to myself. " Next time I 
 gets curious I'll keep my mouth shut." 
 
 I wa'n't takin' any chances of his holdin' me up on 
 the station platform when we got off, either. I was 
 the first man to swing from the steps, and I makes a 
 bee line for the road leadin' out towards Chester's 
 place, not stoppin' for a hack. Pretty soon who should 
 come drivin' after me but Curlylocks. He still has his 
 book open, though ; so he gets by without spottin' me, 
 and I draws a long breath. 
 
 By the time I'd hoofed over the two miles between 
 the stations and where Chester lives I'd done a lot of 
 breathin'. It was quite some of a place to get to } one 
 of these new-model houses, that wears the plasterin' 
 on the outside and has a roof made of fancy drain 
 pipe. It's balanced right on the edge of the rocks, 
 with the whole of Long Island sound for a back yard 
 and more'n a dozen acres of private park between it 
 and the road. 
 
 "Gee!" says I to Chester, "I should think this 
 would be as lonesome as livin' in a lighthouse." 
 
 " Not with the mob that mother usually has around," 
 says he. 
 
 183
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 If the attendance that night was a sample, I guess 
 he was right; for the bunch that answers the dinner 
 gong would have done credit to a summer hotel. 
 Seems that Chester's old man had been a sour, un- 
 sociable old party in his day, keepin' the fam'ly shut 
 up in a thirty-foot-front city house that was about as 
 cheerful as a tomb, and havin' comp'ny to dinner 
 reg'lar once a year. 
 
 But when he finally quit breathin', and the lawyers 
 had pried the checkbook out of his grip, mother had 
 sailed in to make up for lost time. It wasn't bridge 
 and pink teas. She'd always had a hankerin' for 
 minglin' with the high brows, and it was them she went 
 gunnin' for, anything from a college president down 
 to lady novelists. Anybody that could paint a prize 
 picture, or break into print in the thirty-five-cent maga- 
 zines, or get his name up as havin' put the scoop net 
 over a new germ, could win a week of first class board 
 from her by just sendin' in his card. 
 
 But it was tough on Chester, havin' that kind of 
 a gang around all the time, clutterin' up the front 
 hall with their extension grips and droppin' poly- 
 syllables in the soup. Chetty's brow was a low cut. 
 Maybe he had a full set of brains; but he hadn't 
 ever had to work 'em overtime, and he didn't seem 
 anxious to try. About all the heavy thinkin' he did 
 was when he was orderin' lunch at the club. But 
 
 184
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 he was a big, full blooded, good natured young feller, 
 and with the exercise he got around to the Studio he 
 kept in pretty good trim. 
 
 How he ever come to get stuck on a girl like 
 Angelica, though, was more'n I could account for. 
 She's one of these slim, big eyed, breathless, gushy 
 sort of females; the kind that tends out on picture 
 shows, and piano recitals, and Hindu lectures. Ches- 
 ter seems to have a bad case of it, though. 
 
 " Is she on hand to-night, Chetty ? " says I. 
 
 He owns up that she was. " And say, Shorty," 
 says he, " I want you to meet her. Come on, now. 
 I've told her a lot about you." 
 
 " That bein' the case," says I, " here's where 
 Angelica gets a treat," and we starts out to hunt for 
 her, Chester's plan bein' to make me the excuse for 
 the boxin' exhibit. 
 
 But Angelica didn't seem to be so easy to locate. 
 First we strikes the music room, where a heavy 
 weight gent lately come over from Warsaw is tearin' 
 a thunder storm out of the southwest corner of the 
 piano. 
 
 The room was full of folks; but nary sign of 
 the girl with the eyes. Nor she wa'n't in the libr'y, 
 where a four-eyed duck with a crop of rusty chin 
 spinach was gassin' away about the sun spots, or some- 
 thing. Say, there was 'most any kind of brain stimu- 
 
 185
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 lation you could name bein' handed out in diff'rent 
 parts of that house; but Angelica wa'n't to any of 
 'em. 
 
 It was just by accident, as we was takin' a turn 
 around one of the verandas facin' the water, that 
 we runs across a couple camped down in a corner 
 seat under a big palm. The girl in pink radium silk 
 was Angelica. And say, by moonlight she's a bunch 
 of honeysuckle! The other party was our old friend 
 Curlylocks, and I has to grin at the easy way he has 
 of pickin' out the best looker in sight and leadin' her 
 off where she wouldn't have to listen to anybody but 
 him. He has the po'try tap turned on full blast, and 
 the girl is listenin' as pleased as if she had never 
 heard anything better in her life. 
 
 " Confound him ! " says Chester under his breath. 
 "He's here again, is he? " 
 
 " Looks like this part of the house was gettin' 
 crowded, Chetty," says I. " Let's back out." 
 
 " Hanged if I do ! " says he, and proceeds to do 
 the butt in act about as gentle as a truck horse boltin' 
 through a show window. " Oh, you're here, Angel- 
 ica ! " he growls out. " I've been hunting all over the 
 shop for you." 
 
 " S-s-sh ! " says Angelica, holding up one finger and 
 vvavin' him off with the other hand. 
 
 "Yes, I see," says Chester; "but " 
 
 186
 
 HE HAS THE PC/TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 " Oh, please run away and don't bother ! " says she. 
 " That's a good boy, now Chester." 
 
 " Oh, darn ! " says Chester. 
 
 That was the best he could do too, for they don't 
 even wait to see us start. Angelica gives us a fine 
 view of her back hair, and Mr. Curlylocks begins 
 where he left off, and spiels away. It was a good 
 deal the same kind of rot he had shoved at me on 
 the train, all about hearts and lovin' and so on, 
 only here he throws in business with the eyelashes, and 
 seems to have pulled out the soft vocal stops. 
 
 Chester stands by for a minute, tryin' to look holes 
 through 'em, and then he lets me lead him off. 
 
 " Now what do you think of that? " says he, makin' 
 a face like he'd tasted something that had been too 
 long in the can. 
 
 " Why," says I, " it's touchin', if true. Who's the 
 home destroyer with the vaseline voice and the fuzzy 
 nut?" 
 
 "He calls himself Sylvan Vickers," says Chester. 
 " He's a poet a sappy, slushy, milk and water poet. 
 Writes stuff about birds and flowers and love, and 
 goes around spouting it to women." 
 
 " Why," says I, " he peeled off a few strips for me, 
 comin' up on the cars, and I though it was hot 
 stuff." 
 
 "Honest, Shorty," says Chester, swallowin' the 
 187
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 string as fast as I could unwind the ball, " you you 
 don't like that kind of guff, do you ? " 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " I don't wake up in the night 
 and cry for it, and maybe I can worry along for the 
 next century or so without hearin' any more ; but he's 
 sure found some one that does like it, eh ? " 
 
 There's no sayin' but what Chester held himself 
 in well; for if ever a man was entitled to a grouch, 
 it was him. But he says mighty little, just walks off 
 scowlin' and settin' his teeth hard. I knew what was 
 good for that ; so I hints that he round up his chappies 
 and go down into the gym. to work it off. 
 
 Chetty's enthusiasm for mitt jugglin' has all petered 
 out, though, and it's some time before I can make 
 him see it my way. Then we has to find his crowd, 
 that was scattered around in the different rooms, lone- 
 some and tired ; so it's late in the evenin' before we got 
 under way. 
 
 Chester and me have had a round or so, and he'd 
 just wore out one of his friends and was tryin' to tease 
 somebody else to put 'em on, when I spots a rubber 
 neck in the back of the hall. 
 
 " O-o-h, see who's here, Chetty ! " says I, whisperin' 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 It was our poet friend, that has had to give up 
 Angelica to her maw. He's been strayin' around loose, 
 and has wandered in through the gym. doors by luck. 
 
 188
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 Now, Chester may not have any mighty intellect, but 
 there's times when he can think as quick as the next 
 one. He takes one glance at Curlylocks, and stiffens 
 up like a bird dog pointin' a partridge. 
 
 " Say," says he all excited, " do you suppose could 
 we get him to put them on ? " 
 
 " Not if you showed you was so anxious as all that," 
 says I. 
 
 " Then you ask him, Shorty," he whispers. " I'll 
 give a hundred for just one round two hundred." 
 
 " S-s-sh ! " says I. " Take it easy." 
 
 Ever see an old lady tryin' to shoo a rooster into 
 a fence corner, while the old man waited around the 
 end of the woodshed with the axe? You know how 
 gentle and easy the trick has to be worked ? Well, that 
 was me explainin' to Curlylocks how we was havin' a 
 little exercise with the kid pillows, oh, just a little 
 harmless tappin' back and forth, so's we could sleep 
 well afterwards, and didn't he feel like tryin' it for a 
 minute with Chester? Smooth! Some of that talk 
 of mine would have greased an axle. 
 
 Sylvie, old boy, he blinks at me through his glasses, 
 like a poll parrot sizin' up a firecracker that little Jimmy 
 wants to hand him. He don't say anything, but he 
 seems some interested. He reaches out for one of the 
 mitts and pokes a finger into the paddin', lookin' it 
 over as if it was some kind of a curiosity; 
 
 189
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Reg'lar swan's down cushions," says I. 
 
 " Like to have you try a round or so, Vickers," puts 
 in Chester, as careless as he could. " Professor Mc- 
 Cabe will show you how to put them on." 
 
 " Ah, really ? " says Curlylocks. Then he has to step 
 up and inspect Chester's frame up. 
 
 " That's the finish ! " thinks I ; for Chetty's a well 
 built boy, good and bunchy around the shoulders, and 
 when he peels down to a sleeveless jersey he looks 
 'most as wicked as Sharkey. But, just as we're ex- 
 pectin' Curlylocks to show how wise he was, he throws 
 out a bluff that leaves us gaspin' for breath. 
 
 " Do you know," says he, " if I was in the 
 mood for that sort of thing, I'd be charmed; but 
 er " 
 
 "Oh, fudge!" says Chetty. "I expect you'd 
 rather recite us some .poetry? " And at that one of 
 Chester's chums snickers right out. Sylvie flushes up 
 like some one had slapped him on the wrist. 
 
 " Beg pardon," says he ; " but I believe I will try 
 it for a little while," and he holds out his paws for me 
 to slip on the gloves. 
 
 " Better shed the parlour clothes," says I. " You're 
 liable to get 'em dusty," which last tickles the audience 
 a lot. 
 
 He didn't want to peel off even his Tuxedo; but 
 I jollies him into lettin' go of it, and partin' with his 
 
 190
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 collar and white tie and eye glasses too. That was 
 as far as he'd go, though. 
 
 Course, it was kind of a low down game to put 
 up on anybody; but Curlylocks wa'n't outclassed any 
 in height, nor much in weight ; and, seein' as how he'd 
 kind of laid himself open to something of the sort, I 
 didn't feel as bad as I might. All the time, Chester 
 was tryin' to keep the grin off his face, and his chums 
 was most wearin' their elbows out nudgin' each other. 
 
 " Now," says I, when I've got Curlylocks ready for 
 the slaughter, " what'll it be two-minute rounds ? " 
 
 " Quite satisfactory," says Sylvie ; and Chetty nods. 
 
 " Then let 'er go ! " says I, steppin' back. 
 
 One thing I've always coached Chester on, was 
 openin' lively. It don't make any difference whether 
 the mitts are hard or soft, whether it's a go to a 
 finish or a private bout for fun, there's no sense in 
 wastin' the first sixty seconds in stirrin' up the air. 
 The thing to do is to bore in. And Chester didn't 
 need any urgin'. He cuts loose with both bunches, 
 landin' a right on the ribs and pokin' the left into the 
 middle of Sylvie's map; so sudden that Mr. Poet 
 heaves up a grunt way from his socks. 
 
 " Ah, string it out, Chetty," says I. " String it out, 
 so's it'll last longer." 
 
 But he's like a hungry kid with a hokypoky sand- 
 wich, he wants to take it all at one bite. And may- 
 
 191
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 be if I'd been as much gone on Angelica as he was, 
 and had been put on a siding for this moonlight po'try 
 business, I'd been just as anxious. So he wades in 
 again with as fine a set of half arm jolts as he has in 
 stock. 
 
 By this time Sylvie has got his guard up proper, 
 and is coverin' himself almost as good as if he knew 
 how. He does it a little awkward; but somehow 
 Chetty couldn't seem to get through. 
 
 " Give him the cross hook ! " sings out one of the 
 boys. 
 
 Chester tries, but it didn't work. Then he springs 
 another rush, and they goes around like a couple 
 of pinwheels, with nothin' gettin' punished but the 
 gloves. 
 
 " Time ! " says I, and leads Sylvie over to a chair. 
 He was puffin' some, but outside of that he was as 
 good as new. " Good blockin', old man," says I. 
 " You're doin' fine. Keep that up and you'll be all 
 right." 
 
 "Think so?" says he, reachin' for the towel. 
 
 The second spasm starts off different. Curlylocks 
 seems to be more awake than he was, and the first 
 thing we knows he's fiddlin' for an openin' in the good 
 old fashioned way. 
 
 "And there's where you lose out, son," thinks I. 
 
 I hadn't got through thinkin' before tilings begun 
 192
 
 TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE 
 
 happenin'. Sylvie seems to unlimber from the waist 
 up, and his arms acted like he'd let out an extra 
 link in 'em. Funny I hadn't noticed that reach of 
 his before. For a second or so he only steps around 
 Chester, shootin' out first one glove and then the other, 
 and plantin' little love pats on different parts of him, 
 as if he was locatin' the right spots. 
 
 Chetty don't like havin' his bumps felt of that 
 way, and comes back with a left swing followed by 
 an upper cut. They was both a little wild, and they 
 didn't connect. That wa'n't the worst of it, though. 
 Before he's through with that foolishness Sylvie turns 
 them long arms of his into a rapid fire battery, and 
 his mitts begin to touch up them spots he's picked out 
 at the rate of about a hundred bull's eyes to the 
 minute. It was bing bing bing biff! with 
 Chetty's arms swingin' wide, and his block rockin', 
 and his breath comin' short, and his knees gettin' as 
 wabbly as a new boy speakin' a piece. Before I can 
 call the round Curb/locks has put the steam into a 
 jaw punch that sends Chester to the mat as hard as 
 though he'd been dropped out of a window. 
 
 " Is is it all over ? " says Chetty when he comes to, 
 a couple of minutes later. 
 
 " If you leave it to me," says I, " I should say it 
 was; unless Mr. What's-his-name here wants to try 
 that same bunch of tricks on me. How about it ? " 
 
 193
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Much obliged, professor," says Curlylocks, givin* 
 a last hitch to his white tie ; " but I've seen you in the 
 ring." 
 
 " Well," says I, " I've heard you recite po'try ; so 
 we're even. But say, you make a whole lot better 
 showin' in my line than I would in yours, and if you 
 ever need a backer in either, just call on me." 
 
 We shakes hands on that; and then Chetty comes 
 to the front, man fashion, with his flipper out, too. 
 That starts the reunion, and when I leaves 'em, about 
 one A. M., the Scotch and ginger ale tide was runnin' 
 out fast. 
 
 How about Angelica? Ah, say, next mornin' there 
 shows up a younger, fresher, gushier one than she is, 
 and inside of half an hour her and Curlylocks is close 
 together on a bench, and he's got the little book out 
 again. Angelica pines in the background for about 
 three minutes before Chester comes around with the 
 tourin' car, and the last I see of 'em they was snug- 
 gled up together in the back of the tonneau. So I 
 guess Chetty don't need much sympathisin' with, even 
 if he was passed a couple of lime drops. 
 
 194
 
 XIII 
 
 MAYBE I was tellin' you something about them two 
 rockin' chair commodores from the yacht club, that 
 I've got on my reg'lar list? They're some of Pinck- 
 ney's crowd, you know, and that's just as good as 
 sayin' they're more ornamental than useful. Anyway, 
 that description's a close fit for Purdy. 
 
 First off I couldn't stand for Purdy at all. He's 
 one of these natty, band box chappies, with straw 
 coloured hair slicked down as smooth as if he'd just 
 come up from a dive, and a costume that looks as 
 if it might have been copied from a stained glass 
 window. You've seen them symphonies in greys and 
 browns, with everything matched up, from their shirt 
 studs to their shoes buttons? Now, I don't mind a 
 man's bein' a swell dresser I've got a few hot vests 
 myself but this tryin' to be a Mr. Pastelle is runnin' 
 the thing into the ground. 
 
 Purdy could stand all the improvin' the tailor could 
 hand him, though. His eyes was popped just enough 
 to give him a continual surprised look, and there was 
 more or less of his face laid out in nose. Course, he 
 wa'n't to blame for that; but just the same, when he 
 
 195
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 gets to comin' to the Studio twice a week for glove 
 work and the chest weights, I passes him over to 
 Swifty Joe. Honest, I couldn't trust myself to hit 
 around that nose proper. But Swifty uses him right. 
 Them clothes of Purdy's had got Swifty goin', and 
 he wouldn't have mussed him for a farm. 
 
 After I'd got used to seein' Purdy around, I didn't 
 mind him so much myself. He seemed to be a well 
 meanin', quiet, sisterly sort of a duck, one of the kind 
 that fills in the corners at afternoon teas, and wears 
 out three pairs of pumps every winter leadin' cotillions. 
 You'll see his name figurin' in the society notes: how 
 Mrs. Burgess Jones gave a dinner dance at Sherry's 
 for the younger set, and the cotillion was led by Mr. 
 Purdy Bligh. Say, how's that as a steady job for a 
 grown man, eh? 
 
 But so long as I'm treated square by anyone, and 
 they don't try to throw any lugs around where I am, 
 I don't feel any call to let 'em in on my private 
 thoughts. So Purdy and me gets along first rate; 
 and the next thing I knows he's callin' me Shorty, 
 and bein' as glad to see me when he comes in as if 
 I was one of his old pals. How you goin' to dodge 
 a thing of that kind? And then, 'fore I knows what's 
 comin', I'm right in the middle of this Bombazoula 
 business. 
 
 It wa'n't anything I butted into on purpose, now 
 196
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 you can take that straight. It was this way: I was 
 doin' my reg'lar afternoon stroll up the avenue, not 
 payin' much attention to anything in particular, when a 
 cab pulls up at the curb, and I looks around, to see 
 Purdy leanin' over the apron and makin' motions at 
 me with his cane. 
 
 " Hello ! " says I. " Have they got you strapped in 
 so you can't get out ? " 
 
 " By Jove ! " says he, " I never thought of jumping 
 out, you know. Beg pardon, old man, for hailing you 
 in that fashion, but " 
 
 "Cut it!" says I. "I ain't so proud as all that. 
 What's doin'?" 
 
 " It's rather a rummy go," says he ; " but where can 
 I buy some snakes ? " 
 
 " That's rummy, all right," says I. " Have you 
 tried sendin' him to an institute? " 
 
 " Sending who ? " says he. 
 
 " Oh ! " says I. " I figured this was a snake cure, 
 throwin' a scare into somebody, that you was plannin'." 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," says Purdy. " They're for Valen- 
 tine. He's fond of snakes, you know can't get along 
 without them. But they must be big ones spotted, 
 rings around them, and all that." 
 
 " Gee ! " says I. " Vally's snake tastes must be edu- 
 cated 'way up ! Guess you'll have to give in your order 
 down at Lefty White's." 
 
 197
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " And where is that ? " says he. 
 
 " William street, near the bridge," says I. " Don't 
 you know about Lefty's ? " 
 
 Well, he didn't; hadn't ever been below the bridge 
 on the East Side in his life ; and wouldn't I please come 
 along, if I could spare the time. 
 
 So I climbs in alongside Purdy and the cane, and 
 off we goes down town, at the rate of a dollar V a 
 half an hour. I hadn't got out more'n two ques- 
 tions 'fore Purdy cuts loose with the story of his 
 life. 
 
 " It's almost the same as asking me to choose my 
 lot in the cemetery," says he, " this notion of Aunt 
 Isabella's for sending me out to buy snakes." 
 
 " I thought it was Valentine they was for ? " says I. 
 " Where does he come in ? " 
 
 That fetches us to Chapter One, which begins with 
 Aunt Isabella. It seems that some time back, after 
 she'd planted one hubby in Ohio and another in Green- 
 wood, and had pinned 'em both down secure with cut 
 granite slabs, aunty had let herself go for another try. 
 This time she gets an Englishman. He couldn't have 
 been very tough, to begin with, for he didn't last long. 
 Neither did a brother of his; although you couldn't 
 lay that up against Isabella, as brother in law got him- 
 self run over by a train. About all he left was a couple 
 of fourteen-year-old youngsters stranded in a boarding 
 
 198
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 school. That was Purdy and Valentine, and they 
 was only half brothers at that, with nobody that they 
 could look up to for anything more substantial than 
 sympathy. So it was up to the step-aunt to do the 
 rescue act. 
 
 Well, Isabella has accumulated all kinds of dough ; 
 but she figures out that the whole of one half brother 
 was about all she wanted as a souvenir to take home 
 from dear old England. She looks the two of 'em 
 over for a day, tryin' to decide which to take, and then 
 Purdy's 'lasses coloured hair wins out against Valen- 
 tine's brick dust bangs. She finds a job for Vally, a 
 place where he can almost earn a livin', gives him a 
 nice new prayer book and her blessin', and cuts him 
 adrift in the fog. Then she grabs Purdy by the hand 
 and catches the next boat for New York. 
 
 From then on it's all to the downy for Purdy, bar- 
 rin' the fact that the old girl's more or less tryin' to 
 the nerves. She buys herself a double breasted house 
 just off the avenue, gives Purdy the best there is goin', 
 and encourages him to be as ladylike as he knows 
 how. 
 
 And say, what would you expect ? I'd hate to think 
 of what I'd be now if I'd been brought up on a 
 course of dancin' school, music lessons, and Fauntleroy 
 suits. What else was there for Purdy to do but learn 
 to drink tea with lemon in it, and lead cotillions? 
 
 199
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Aunt Isabella's been takin' on weight and losin' her 
 hearin'. When she gets so that she can't eat chicken 
 salad and ice cream at one A. M. without rememberin' 
 it for three days, and she has to buy pearls to splice out 
 her necklace, and have an extra wide chair put in her 
 op'ra box, she begins to sour on the merry-merry life, 
 scratches half the entries on her visitin' list, and joins 
 old lady societies that meet once a month in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 " Of course," says Purdy, " I had no objection to all 
 that. It was natural. Only after she began to bring 
 Anastasia around, and hint very plainly what she ex- 
 pected me to do, I began to get desperate." 
 
 " Stashy wa'n't exactly your idea of a pippin, eh ? " 
 says I. 
 
 That was what. Accordin' to Purdy's shorthand 
 notes, Stashy was one of these square chinned females 
 that ought to be doin' a weight liftin' act with some 
 tent show. But she wa'n't. She had too much out at 
 int'rest for that, and as she didn't go in for the light 
 and frivolous she has to have something to keep her 
 busy. So she starts out as a lady preventer. Gettin' 
 up societies to prevent things was her fad. She 
 splurges on 'em, from the kind that wants to put muf- 
 flers on steamboat whistles, to them that would like 
 to button leggins on the statues of G. Wash. For all 
 that, though, she thinks it's her duty to marry some 
 
 200
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 man and train him, and between her and Aunt Isabella 
 they'd picked out Purdy for the victim. 
 
 " While you'd gone and tagged some pink and white, 
 mink lined Daisy May ? " says I. 
 
 " I hadn't thought about getting married at all," 
 says Purdy. 
 
 " Then you might's well quit squirmin'," says I. 
 "If you've got two of that kind plannin' out your 
 future, there ain't any hope." 
 
 Then we gets down to Valentine, the half brother 
 that has been cut loose. Just as Purdy has given it 
 to aunty straight that he'd rather drop out of two 
 clubs and have his allowance cut in half, than tie up to 
 any such tailor made article as Anastasia, and right in 
 the middle of Aunt Isabella's gettin' purple faced and 
 puffy eyed over it, along comes a lengthy letter from 
 Valentine. 
 
 It ain't any hard luck wheeze, either. He's no 
 hungry prod., Vally ain't. He's been doin' some 
 tall climbin', all these years that Purdy's been col- 
 lectin' pearl stick pins and gold cigarette cases, 
 and changin' his clothes four times a day. Vally has 
 jumped from one job to another, played things clear 
 across the board and the ends against the middle, 
 chased the pay envelope almost off the edge of the 
 map, and finished somewhere on the east coast of 
 Africa, where he bosses a couple of hundred coloured 
 
 201
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 gentlemen in the original package, and makes easy 
 money by bein' agent for a big firm of London iv'ry 
 importers. He'd been makin' a trip to headquarters 
 with a cargo, and was on his way back to the iv'ry 
 fields, when the notion struck him to stop off in New 
 York and say howdy to Aunt Isabella and Brother 
 Purd. 
 
 "And she hasn't talked about anything but Valen- 
 tine since," says Purdy. 
 
 " It's Vally's turn to be it; eh?" says I. 
 
 " You'd think so if you could hear them," says he. 
 " Anastasia is just as enthusiastic." 
 
 " You ain't gettin' jealous, are you? " says I. 
 
 Purdy unreefs the sickliest kind of a grin you 
 ever saw. " I was as pleased as anyone," says he, 
 "until I found out the whole of Aunt Isabella's 
 plan." 
 
 And say, it was a grand right and left that she'd 
 framed up. Matin' Stashy up with Valentine instead 
 of Purdy was only part. Her idea was to induce 
 Vally to settle down with her, and ship Purdy off to 
 look after the iv'ry job. 
 
 " Only fancy ! " says Purdy. " It's a place called 
 Bombazoula! Why, you can't even find it on the 
 chart. I'd die if I had to live in such a dreadful 
 place." 
 
 "Is it too late to get busy and hand out the hot air 
 
 202
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 to Stashy ? " says I. " Looks to me like it was either 
 you for her, or Bombazoula for you." 
 
 " Don't ! " says Purdy, and he shivers like I'd slipped 
 an icicle down his back. Honest, he was takin' it so 
 hard I didn't have the heart to rub it in. 
 
 " Maybe Valentine'll renig who knows ? " says I. 
 " He may be so stuck on Africa that she can't call 
 him off." 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Isabella has thought of that," says he. 
 " She is so provoked with me that she will do every- 
 thing to make him want to stay; and if I remember 
 Valentine, he'll be willing. Besides, who would want 
 to live in Africa when they could stop in New York? 
 But I do think she might have sent some one else after 
 those snakes." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " says I. " I'd clean forgot about them. 
 Where do they figure in this ? " 
 
 " Decoration," says Purdy. " In my old rooms too ! " 
 
 Seems that Stashy and aunty had been reading up 
 on Bombazoula, and they'd got it down fine. Then 
 they turns to and lays themselves out to fix things 
 up for Valentine so homelike and comfortable that, 
 even if he was ever so homesick for the jungle, like he 
 wrote he was^ he wouldn't want to go any farther. 
 
 First they'd got a lot of big rubber trees and palms, 
 and filled the rooms full of 'em, with the floors covered 
 with stage grass, and half a dozen grey parrots to let 
 
 203
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 loose. They'd even gone so far as to try to hire a 
 couple of fake Zulus from a museum to come up and 
 sing the moonrise song; so's Vally wouldn't be both- 
 ered about goin' to sleep night. The snakes twinin' 
 around the rubber trees was to add the finishin' touch. 
 Course, they wanted the harmless kind, that's had their 
 stingers cut out; but snakes of some sort they'd just 
 got to have, or else they knew it wouldn't seem like 
 home to Valentine. 
 
 "Just as though I cared whether he is going to 
 feel at home or not ! " says Purdy, real pettish. " By 
 Jove, Shorty! I've half a mind not to do it. So 
 there!" 
 
 " Gee ! " says I. " I wouldn't have your temper for 
 anything. Shall we signal the driver to do a pivot 
 and head her north ? " 
 
 " N-n-n-o," says Purdy, reluctant. 
 
 And right there I gets a seventh son view of Aunt 
 Isabella crackin' the checkbook at Purdy, and givin' 
 him the cold spine now and then by threatenin' to tear 
 up the will. From that on I feels different towards 
 him. He'd got to a point where it was either please 
 Aunt Isabella, or get out and hustle; and how to get 
 hold of real money except by shovin' pink slips at the 
 payin' teller was part of his education that had been 
 left out. He was up against it for fair. 
 
 " Say, Purdy," says I, " I don't want to interfere 
 204
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 in any family matters; but since you've put it up to 
 me, let me get this chunk of advice off my mind: 
 Long's you've got to be nice to aunty or go on a 
 snowball diet, I'd be nice and do it as cheerful as I 
 could." 
 
 Purdy thinks that over for a minute or so. Then 
 he raps his cane on the rubber mat, straightens up 
 his shoulders, and says, " By Jove, I'll do it ! I'll get 
 the snakes ! " 
 
 That wa'n't so easy, though, as I'd thought. Lefty 
 White says he's sorry, but he runs a mighty small 
 stock of snakes in winter. He's got a fine line of 
 spring goods on the way, though, and if we'll just 
 leave our order 
 
 " Ah, say, Lefty ! " says I. " You give me shootin' 
 pains. Here I goes and cracks up your joint as a 
 first class snakery and all you can show is a few 
 angleworms in bottles and a prospectus of what you'll 
 have next month." 
 
 " Stuffed ones wouldn't do, eh ? " says he. 
 
 "Why not?" says I. 
 
 Purdy wa'n't sure, but he thought he'd take a 
 chance on 'em ; so we picked out three of the biggest 
 and spottedest ones in the shop, and makes Lefty 
 promise to get 'em up there early next forenoon, for 
 Valentine was due to show up by dinner time next 
 night. 
 
 205
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 On the way back we talks it over some more, and 
 I tries to chirk Purdy up all I could ; for every time he 
 thinks of Bombazoula he has a shiverin' fit that nearly 
 knocks him out. 
 
 " I could never stand it to go there," says he 
 never ! " 
 
 " Here, here ! " says I. " That's no way to meet a 
 thing like this. What you want to do is to chuck a 
 bluff. Jump right into this reception business with 
 both feet and let on you're tickled to death with the 
 prospect. Aunty won't take half the satisfaction in 
 shunting you off to the monkey woods if she thinks 
 you want to go." 
 
 Beats all what a little encouragement will do for 
 some folks. By the time Purdy drops me at the 
 Studio he's feelin' a whole lot better, and is prepared 
 to give Vally the long lost brother grip when he 
 comes. 
 
 But I was sorry for Purdy just the same. I could 
 see him, over there at Bombazoula, in a suit of laven- 
 der pajamas, try in' to organise a cotillion with a lot of 
 heavy weight brunettes, wearin' brass rings in their 
 noses and not much else. And all next day I kept 
 wonderin' if Aunt Isabella's scheme was really goin' 
 to pan. So, when Purdy rushes in about four o'clock, 
 and wants me to come up and take a look at the lay- 
 out, I was just about ripe for goin' to see the show. 
 
 206
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 " But I hope we can shy aunty," says I. " Some- 
 times I get along with these old battle axes first rate, 
 and then again I don't; and what little reputation you 
 got left at home I don't want to queer." 
 
 "Oh, that will be all right," says Purdy. "She 
 has heard of you from Pinckney, and she knows about 
 how you helped me to get the snakes." 
 
 "Did they fit in? "says I. 
 
 " Come up and see," says Purdy. 
 
 And it was worth the trip, just to get a view of 
 them rooms. Nobody but a batty old woman would 
 have ever thought up so many jungle stunts for the 
 second floor of a brownstone front. 
 
 "There!" says Purdy. "Isn't that tropical 
 enough ? " 
 
 I took a long look. " Well," says I, " I've never 
 been farther south than Old Point, but I've seen 
 such things pictured out before now, and if I'm any 
 judge, this throws up a section of the cannibal belt to 
 the life." 
 
 It did too. They had the dark shades pulled down, 
 and the light was kind of dim ; but you could see that 
 the place was chock full of ferns and palms and such. 
 The parrots was hoppin' around, and you could hear 
 water runnin' somewheres, and they'd trained them 
 spotted snakes around the rubber trees just as natural 
 as if they'd crawled up there by themselves. 
 
 207
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 While we was lookin' Aunt Isabella comes puffin' 
 up the stairs. 
 
 "Isn't it just charming, Mr. McCabe?" says she, 
 holdin' a hand up behind one ear. " I can hardly 
 wait for dear Valentine to come, I'm so anxious to 
 see how pleased he'll be. He just dotes on jungle 
 life. The dear boy! You must come up and take 
 tea with him some afternoon. He's a very shy, diffi- 
 dent little chap; but " 
 
 At that the door bell starts ringin' like the house 
 was afire, and bang! bang! goes someone's fist on 
 the outside panel. Course, we all chases down stairs 
 to see what's broke loose; but before we gets to the 
 front hall the butler has the door open, and in pushes 
 a husky, red whiskered party, wearin' a cloth cap, a 
 belted ulster with four checks to the square yard, and 
 carryin' an extension leather bag about the size of a 
 small trunk, with labels pasted all over it. 
 
 " It's a blawsted shyme, that's w'at it is ! " says he 
 "me p'yin' 'alf a bob for a two shillin' drive. These 
 cabbies of yours is a set of bloomink 'iw'ymen ! " 
 
 "What name, sir?" says the butler. 
 
 " Nime ! " roars the whiskered gent. " I'm Valen- 
 tine, that's who I am ! Tyke the luggage, you shiver- 
 in' pie face ! " 
 
 " Oh, Valentine ! " squeals Aunt Isabella, makin' a 
 rush at him with her arms out. 
 
 208
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 " Sheer off, aunty ! " says he. " Cut out the bally 
 tommyrot and let me 'ave a wash. And sye, send 
 some beggar for the brandy and soda. Where's me 
 rooms ? " 
 
 " I'll show you up. Valentine," chips in Purdy. 
 
 " 'Ello ! 'O's the little man? " says Vally. " Blow 
 me if it ain't Purdy ! Trot along up, Purdy lad, and 
 show me the digs." 
 
 Say, he was a bird, Vally was. He talks like 
 a Cockney, acts like a bounder, and looks 'em 
 both. 
 
 Aunt Isabella has dropped on the hall seat, gaspin' 
 for breath, the butler is leanin' against the wall with 
 his mouth open; so I grabs the bag and starts up 
 after the half brothers. Just by the peachblow tint 
 of Vally's nose I got the idea that maybe the most 
 entertainin' part of this whole program was billed to 
 take place on the second floor. 
 
 " Here you are," says Purdy, swingin' open the 
 door and shovin' him in. " Aunt Isabella has fixed 
 things up homelike for you, you see." 
 
 " And here's your trunk," says I. " Make your- 
 self to home," and I shuts him in to enjoy himself. 
 
 It took Valentine just about twenty seconds to size 
 up the interior decorations; for Purdy'd turned on 
 the incandescents so's to give him a good view, and 
 that had stirred up the parrots some. What I was 
 
 209
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 waitin' for was for him to discover the spotted snakes. 
 I didn't think he could miss 'em, for they was 
 mighty prominent. Nor he didn't. It wasn't only us 
 heard it, but everyone else on the block. 
 
 "Wow!" says he. "'Elp! 'Elp! Lemme out! 
 I'm bein' killed!" 
 
 That was Valentine, bellerin' enough to take the 
 roof off, and clawin' around for the doorknob on the 
 inside. He comes out as if he'd been shot through a 
 chute, his eyes stickin' out like a couple of peeled 
 onions, an a grey parrot hangin' to one ear. 
 
 " What's the trouble? " says Purdy. 
 
 " Br-r-r ! " says Valentine, like a clogged steam 
 whistle. " Where's the nearest 'orspital ? I'm a sick 
 man! Br-r-r-r!" 
 
 With that he starts down the stairs, takin' three at 
 a time, bolts through the front door, and makes a 
 dash down the street, yellin' like a kid when a fire 
 breaks out. 
 
 Purdy and me didn't have any time to watch how 
 far he went, for Aunt Isabella had keeled over on the 
 rug, the maid was havin' a fit in the parlour, and the 
 butler was fannin' himself with the card tray. We 
 had to use up all the alcohol and smellin' salts in the 
 house before we could bring the bunch around. When 
 aunty's so she can hold her head up and open her eyes, 
 she looks about cautious, and whispers: 
 
 210
 
 GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK 
 
 " Has has he gone, Purdy, dear ? " 
 
 Purdy says he has. 
 
 " Then," she says to me, " bolt that door, and never 
 mention his name to me again." 
 
 Everything's lovely now. Purdy's back to the 
 downy, and Bombazoula's wiped off the map for good. 
 
 And say! If you're lookin' for a set of jungle 
 scenery and stuffed snakes, I know where you can get 
 a job lot for the askin'. 
 
 211
 
 XIV 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 SAY, the longer I knocks around and the more kinds 
 I meet, the slower I am about sizin' folks up on a first 
 view. I used to think there was only two classes, 
 them that was my kind and them that wa'n't ; but I've 
 got over that. I don't try to grade 'em up any more ; 
 for they're built on so many different plans it would 
 take a card index the size of a flat buildin' to keep 'em 
 all on file. All I can make out is that there's some 
 good points about the worst of 'em, and some of the 
 best has their streak of yellow. 
 
 Anyway, I'm glad I ain't called on to write a tag 
 for Langdon. First news I had of him was what I 
 took for inside information, bein' as it was handed me 
 by his maw. When I gets the note askin' me to call up 
 in the 7o's between five and six I don't know wheiher 
 it's a bid to a tea fest or a bait for an auction. The 
 stationery was real swell, though, and the writin' was 
 this up and down kind that goes with the gilt crest. 
 What I could puzzle out of the name, though, wa'n't 
 familiar. But I follows up the invite and takes a 
 chance. 
 
 212
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 So about five-thirty I'm standin' outside the glass 
 doors pushin' the bell. A butler with boiled egg eyes 
 looks me over real frosty from behind the lace cur- 
 tains; but the minute I says I'm Shorty McCabe he 
 takes off the tramp chain and says, "Yes, sir. This 
 way, sir." I'm towed in over the Persian hall runner 
 to the back parlour, where there's a lady and gent 
 sittin' on opposite sides of the coal grate, with a tea 
 tray between 'em. 
 
 " I'll be drinkin' that stuff yet, if I ain't careful," 
 thinks I. 
 
 But I didn't even have to duck. The lady was so 
 anxious to get to talkin' that she forgot to shove the 
 cups at me, and the gent didn't act like it was his say. 
 It was hard to tell, the way she has the lights fixed, 
 whether she was twenty-five or fifty. Anyway, she 
 hadn't got past the kittenish stage. Some of 'em never 
 does. She don't overdo the thing, but just gushes 
 natural ; usin' her eyes, and eyebrows, and the end of 
 her nose, and the tip of her chin when she spoke, as 
 well as throwin' in a few shoulder lifts once in awhile. 
 
 " It's so good of you to come up, professor ! " says 
 she. "Isn't it, Pembroke?" 
 
 Pembroke he's the gent on the other side of the 
 tray starts to say that it was, but she don't give him a 
 chance. She blazes right ahead, tellin' how she's heard 
 of me and my Studio through friends, and the minute 
 
 213
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 she hears of it, she knows that nothing would suit 
 Langdon better. " Langdon's my son, you know," 
 says she. 
 
 "Honest? "says I. 
 
 " Te-he ! " says she. " How sweet of you ! Hardly 
 anyone believes it at first, though. But he's a dear 
 boy ; isn't he, Pembroke ? " 
 
 This was Pembroke's cue for fair. It's up to him 
 to do the boost act. But all he produces is a double 
 barrelled blink from behind the glasses. He's one of 
 these chubby chaps, Pembroke is, especially around the 
 belt. He has pink cheeks, and a nice white forehead 
 that almost meets the back of his collar. But he knows 
 when to let things slide with a blink. 
 
 " I guess some one's been givin' you the wrong 
 steer," says I. " I ain't started any kindergarten class 
 yet The Y. M. C. A. does that sort of " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! but Langdon isn't a child, you know," 
 says the lady. " He's a great big fellow, almost 
 twenty-two. Yes, really. And I know you'll get to 
 be awfully fond of him. Won't he, Pembroke ? " 
 
 " We-e-e-ell " says Pembroke. 
 
 " Oh, he's bound to," says she. " Of course, Lang- 
 don doesn't always make friends easily. He is so apt 
 to be misunderstood. Why, they treated him perfectly 
 horrid at prep, school, and even worse at college. A 
 lot of the fellows, and, actually, some of the profes- 
 
 214
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 sors, were so rude to him that Langdon said he just 
 wouldn't stay another day ! I told him I didn't blame 
 him a bit. So he came home. But it's awfully dull 
 for a young man like Langdon here in New York, you 
 
 know." 
 
 
 
 " Crippled, or blind or something, is he ? " says I. 
 
 " Who, Langdon ? Why, he's perfect absolutely 
 perfect ! " says she. 
 
 " Oh, that accounts for it," says I, and Pembroke 
 went through some motions with his cheeks like he 
 was tryin' to blow soap bubbles up in the air. 
 
 Well, it seems that mother has been worryin' a lot 
 over keepin' Langdon amused. Think of it, in a town 
 like this ! 
 
 " He detests business," says she, " and he doesn't 
 care for theatres, or going to clubs, or reading, or 
 society. But his poor dear father didn't care for any 
 of those things either, except business. And Langdon 
 hasn't any head for that. All he takes an interest in 
 is his machine." 
 
 " Singer or Remington ? " says I. 
 
 " Why, his auto, of course. He's perfectly devoted 
 to that," says she ; " but the police are so dreadfully 
 particular. Oh, they make such lots of trouble for 
 Langdon, and get him into such stupid scrapes. Don't 
 they, Pembroke?" 
 
 Pembroke didn't blink at that. He nods twice. 
 215
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " It just keeps me worried all the time," she goes 
 on. " It isn't that I mind paying the absurd fines, 
 of course; but well, you can understand. No one 
 knows what those horrid officers will -do next, they're 
 so unreasonable. Just think, that is the poor boy's 
 only pleasure! So I thought that if we could only 
 get Langdon interested in something of an athletic 
 nature he's a splendid boxer, you know oh, 
 splendid!" 
 
 " That's different," says I. " You might send him 
 down a few times and " 
 
 " Oh, but I want you to meet him first," says she, 
 "and arouse his enthusiasm. He would never go if 
 you didn't. I expect he will be in soon, and then 
 Why, that must be Langdon now ! " 
 
 It might have been an axe brigade from the dis- 
 trict attorney's office, or a hook and ladder company, 
 by the sound. I didn't know whether he was comin' 
 through the doors or bringin' 'em in with him. As 
 I squints around I sees the egg eyed butler get should- 
 ered into the hall rack ; so I judges that Langdon must 
 be in something of a hurry. 
 
 He gets over it, though, for he stamps into the middle 
 of the room, plants his feet wide apart, throws his 
 leather cap with the goggles on into a chair, and chucks 
 one of them greasy bootleg gloves into the middle of 
 the tea tray. 
 
 216
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 "Hello, maw!" he growls. " Hello, Fatty ! You 
 here again ? " 
 
 Playful little cuss, Langdon was. He's about five 
 feet nine, short necked, and broad across the chest. 
 But he's got a nice face for a masked ball eyes the 
 colour of purple writin' ink, hair of a lovely ripe tomato 
 shade growin' down to a peak in front and standin' 
 up stiff and bristly; a corrugated brow, like a wash- 
 board ; and an undershot jaw, same's a bull terrier. Oh, 
 yes, he was a dear boy, all right. In his leggin's and 
 leather coat he looks too cute for any use. 
 
 " Who's this ? " says he, gettin' sight of me sittin' 
 sideways on the stuffed chair. 
 
 " Why, Langdon dear," says maw, " this is Pro- 
 fessor McCabe. I was speaking to you of him, you 
 know." 
 
 He looks me over as friendly as if I was some yegg 
 man that had been hauled out of the coal cellar. 
 " Huh ! " says he. I've heard freight engines coughin' 
 up a grade make a noise a good deal like that. 
 
 Say, as a rule I ain't anxious to take on new people, 
 and it's gettin' so lately that we turn away two or three 
 a week; but it didn't take me long to make up my 
 mind that I could find time for a session with Lang- 
 don, if he wanted it. 
 
 " Your maw says you do a little boxin' ? " says I, 
 smooth and soothin'. 
 
 217
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 "What of it?" says he. 
 
 " Well," says I, " down to my Studio we juggle the 
 kid pillows once in awhile ourselves, when we ain't 
 doin' the wand drill, or playin' bean bag." 
 
 " Huh ! " says he once more. 
 
 For a parlour conversationalist, Langdon was a 
 frost, and he has manners that would turn a subway 
 guard green. But maw jumps in with enough but- 
 tered talk for both, and pretty soon she tells me that 
 Langdon's perfectly delighted and will be down next 
 day. 
 
 " Me and Mr. Gallagher'll be on the spot," says I. 
 " Good evenin', ma'am." 
 
 At that Pembroke jumps up, makes a quick break 
 away, and trails along too, so we does a promenade 
 together down West End-ave. 
 
 " Charming young fellow, eh ? " says Pembroke. 
 
 " Sure ! " says I. " But he hides it well." 
 
 " You think Langdon needs exercise ? " says 
 he. 
 
 " Never saw anyone that needed it much worse," 
 says I. 
 
 " Just my notion," says he. " In fact I am so in- 
 terested in seeing that Langdon gets it that I am quite 
 willing to pay something extra for " 
 
 " You don't have to," says I. " I'm almost willin' 
 to do the payin' myself." 
 
 218
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 That pleases Pembroke so much he has to stop right 
 in his tracks and shake hands. Funny, ain't it, how 
 you can get to be such good friends with anyone so 
 sudden? We walks thirty blocks, chinnin' like 
 brothers, and 'when we stops on the corner of 42d I've 
 got the whole story of maw and Langdon, with some 
 of Pembroke's hist'ry thrown in. 
 
 It was just a plain case of mother bein' used as a 
 doormat by her dear, darling boy. She was more 
 or less broke in to it, for it seems that the late de- 
 parted had been a good deal of a rough houser in his 
 day, havin' been about as gentle in his ways as a 
 'Leventh-ave. bartender entertainin' the Gas House 
 Gang. He hadn't much more'n quit the game, though, 
 before Langdon got big enough to carry out the pro- 
 gram, and he'd been at it ever since. 
 
 As near as I could figure, Pembroke was a boyhood 
 friend of maw's. He'd missed his chance of bein' any- 
 thing nearer, years ago, but was still anxious to try 
 again. But it didn't look like there'd be any weddin' 
 bells for him until Langdon either got his neck broke 
 or was put away for life. Pemby wa'n't soured, 
 though. He talked real nice about it. He said he 
 could see how much maw thought of Langdon, and 
 it showed what good stuff she was made of, her stick- 
 in' to the boy until he'd settled on something, or some- 
 thing had settled on him. Course, he thought it was 
 
 219
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 about time she had a let up and was treated white for 
 awhile. 
 
 Accordin' to the hints he dropped, I suspicions that 
 Pembroke would have ranked her A-i in the queen 
 class, and I gathers that the size of her bank account 
 don't cut any ice in this deal, him havin' more or less 
 of a surplus himself. I guess he'd been a patient 
 waiter; but he'd set his hopes hard on engagin' the 
 bridal state room for a spring trip to Europe. 
 
 It all comes back, though, to what could be done 
 with Langdon, and that was where the form sheet 
 wa'n't any help. There's a million or so left in trust 
 for him; but he don't get it until he's twenty-five. 
 Meantime, it was a question of how you're goin' to 
 handle a youngster that's inherited the instincts of a 
 truck driver and the income of a bank president. 
 
 " It's a pity, too," says Pembroke. " He hasn't any 
 vicious habits, he's rather bright, and if he could be 
 started right he would make quite a man, even now. 
 He needs to be caged up somewhere long enough to 
 have some of the bully knocked out of him. I'm 
 hoping you can do a little along that line." 
 
 "Too big a contract," says I. "All I want is to 
 make his ears buzz a little, just as a comeback for a 
 few of them grunts he chucked at me." 
 
 And who do you suppose showed up at the Studio 
 next forenoon? Him and maw; she smilin' all over 
 
 220
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 and tickled to death to think she'd got him there; 
 Langdon actin' like a bear with a sore ear. 
 
 " Maybe you hadn't better wait," says I to her. 
 
 " Oh, yes," says she. " I am going to stay and 
 watch dear Langdon box, you know." 
 
 Well, unless I ruled her out flat, there was no way 
 of changin' her mind; so I had to let her stay. And 
 she saw Langdon box. Oh, yes ! For an amateur, he 
 puts up a fairly good exhibition, and as I didn't have 
 the heart to throw the hook into him with her sittin' 
 there lookin' so cheerful, about all I does is step 
 around and block his swings and jabs. And say, with 
 him carryin' his guard high, and leavin' the way to 
 his meat safe open half the time, it was all I could do 
 to hold myself back. 
 
 The only fun I gets is watchin' Swifty Joe's face 
 out of the corner of my eye. He was pipin' us off 
 from the start. First his mouth comes open a foot 
 or so as he sees me let a chance slide, and when I 
 misses more openin's he takes on a look like some one 
 had fed him a ripe egg. 
 
 Langdon is havin' the time of his life. He can hit 
 as hard as he likes, and he don't get hit back. Must 
 have seemed real homelike to him. Anyway, soon's 
 he dopes it out that there ain't any danger at all, he 
 bores in like a snow plough, and between blockin' and 
 duckin' I has my hands full. 
 
 221
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Just how Langdon has it sized up I couldn't make 
 out; but like as not I made somethin' of a hit with 
 him. I put it down that way when he shows up one 
 afternoon with his bubble, and offers to take me for a 
 spin. It was so unexpected to find him tryin' to do 
 somethin' agreeable that I don't feel like I ought to 
 throw him down. So I pulls on a sweater and climbs 
 in next to the steerin' wheel. 
 
 There wa'n't anything fancy about Langdon's oil 
 waggon. He'd had the tonneau stripped off, and left 
 just the front seat no varnished wood, only a coat of 
 primin' paint and a layer of mud splashed over that. 
 But we hadn't gone a dozen blocks before I am wise 
 to the fact that nothin' was the matter with the cog 
 wheels underneath. 
 
 " Kind of a high powered cart, ain't it ? " says I. 
 
 " Only ninety horse," says Langdon, jerkin' us 
 around a Broadway car so fast that we grazed both 
 ends at once. 
 
 " You needn't hit 'er up on my account," says I, 
 as we scoots across the Plaza., makin' a cab horse stand 
 on his hind legs to give us room. 
 
 " I'm only on the second speed," says he. " Wait," 
 and he does some monkeyin' with the lever. 
 
 Maybe it was Central Park; but it seemed to me 
 like bein' shot through a Christmas wreath, and the 
 next thing I knows we're tearin' up Amsterdam-ave. 
 
 222
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 Say, I can see 'em yet, them folks and waggons and 
 things we missed women holdin' kids by the hand, 
 old ladies steppin' out of cars, little girls runnin' across 
 the street with their arms full of bundles, white wings 
 with their dust cans, and boys with delivery carts. 
 Sometimes I'd just shut my eyes and listen for the 
 squashy sound, and when it didn't come I'd open 'em 
 and figure on what would happen if I should reach out 
 and get Langdon's neck in the crook of my arm. 
 
 And it wa'n't my first fast ride in town, either. But 
 I'd never been behind the lamps when a two-ton ma- 
 chine was bein' sent at a fifty-mile clip up a street 
 crowded with folks that had almost as much right to 
 be livin' as we did. 
 
 It was a game that suited Langdon all right, though. 
 He's squattin' behind the wheel bareheaded, with his 
 ketchup tinted hair plastered back by the wind, them 
 purple eyes shut to a squint, his under jaw stuck out, 
 and a kind of half grin if you could call it that 
 fiickerin' on and off his thick lips. I don't wonder 
 men shook their fists at us and women turned white 
 and sick as we cleared 'em by the thickness of a sheet 
 of paper. I expect we left a string of cuss words 
 three blocks long. 
 
 I don't know how far we went, or where. It was 
 all a nightmare to me, just a string of gasps and 
 visions of what would be in trie papers next day, after 
 
 223
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 the coroner's jury got busy. But somehow we got 
 through without any red on the tires, and pulls up in 
 front of the Studio. I didn't jump out in a hurry, like 
 I wanted to. I needed a minute to think, for it seemed 
 to me something was due some one. 
 
 " Nice little plaything you've got here," says I. 
 " And that was a great ride. But sittin' still so long 
 has kind of cramped my legs. Don't feel like limber- 
 in' up a bit with the mitts, do you ? " 
 
 " I'd just as soon," says Langdon. 
 
 I was tryin' not to look the way I felt; but when 
 we'd sent Swifty down to sit in the machine, and I'd 
 got Langdon peeled off and standin' on the mat, with 
 the spring lock snapped between him and the outside 
 door, it seemed too good to be true. I'd picked out 
 an old set of gloves that had the hair worked away 
 from the knuckles some, for I wa'n't plannin' on any 
 push ball picnic this time. 
 
 Just to stir his fightin' blood, and partly so I could 
 be sure I had a good grip on my own temper, I let 
 him get in a few facers on me. Then I opens up with 
 the side remarks I'd been thinkin' over. 
 
 " Say, Langy," says I, sidesteppin' one of his swings 
 for my jaw, " s'posin' you'd hit some of them people, 
 eh? S'posin' that car of yours had caught one of them 
 old women biff! like that?" and I lets go a jolt 
 that fetches him on the cheek bone. 
 
 224
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 " Ugh ! " says Langdon, real surprised. But he 
 shakes his head and comes back at me. 
 
 " Ever stop to think," says I, " how one of them 
 kids would look after you'd got him so?" and I 
 shoots the left into that bull neck of his. 
 
 " S-s-s-say ! " sputters Langdon. " What do you 
 think you're doing, anyway ? " 
 
 " Me ? " says I. " I'm tryin' to get a few points 
 on the bubble business. Is it more fun to smash 'em 
 in the ribs bang ! like that ? Or to slug 'em in the 
 head biff ! so ? That's right, son ; come in for more. 
 It's waitin'. There! Jarred your nut a bit, that one 
 did, eh? Yes, here's the mate to it. There's plenty 
 more on tap. Oh, never mind the nose claret. It'll 
 wipe off. Keep your guard up. Careful, now! 
 You're swingin' wide. And, as I was sayin' there, 
 you ran into that one this bubble scorchin' must be 
 great sport. When you don't biff! get 'em biff! 
 you can scare 'em to death, eh ? Wabbly on your feet, 
 are you? That's the stuff! Keep it up. That eye's 
 all right. One's all you need to see with. Gosh! 
 Now you've got a pair of 'em." 
 
 If it hadn't been for his comin' in so ugly and strong 
 I never could have done it. I'd have weakened and 
 let up on him long before he'd got half what was owin'. 
 But he was bound to have it all, and there's no sayin' 
 he wa'n't game about it. At the last I tried to tell 
 
 225
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 him he'd had enough; but as long as he could keep 
 on his pins he kept hopin' to get in just one on me; 
 so I finally has to drop him with a stiff one behind the 
 ear. 
 
 Course, if we'd had ring gloves on he'd looked like 
 he'd been on the choppin' block; but with the pillows 
 you can't get hurt bad. Inside of ten minutes I has 
 him all washed off and up in a chair, lookin' not much 
 worse than before, except for the eye swellin's. And 
 what do you guess is the first thing he does ? 
 
 " Say, McCabe," says he, shovin' out his paw, 
 " you're all right, you are." 
 
 "So?" says I. "If I thought you was any judge 
 that might carry weight." 
 
 " I know," says he. " Nobody likes me." 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " I ain't rubbin' it in. I guess 
 there's white spots in you, after all; even if you do 
 keep 'em covered." 
 
 He pricks up his ears at that, and wants to know 
 how and why. Almost before I knows it we've drifted 
 into a heart to heart talk that a half hour before I 
 would have said couldn't have happened. Langdon 
 ain't turned cherub; but he's a whole lot milder, and 
 he takes in what I've got to say as if it was a bulletin 
 from headquarters. 
 
 " That's all so," says he. " But I've got to do some- 
 thing. Do you know what I'd like best? " 
 
 226
 
 A HUNCH FOR LANGDON 
 
 I couldn't guess. 
 
 " I'd like to be in the navy and handle one of those 
 big thirteen-inch guns," says he. 
 
 " Why not, then ? " says I. 
 
 " I don't know how to get in," says he. " I'd go in 
 a minute, if I did." 
 
 "You're as good as there now, then," says I. 
 " There's a recruitin' office around on Sixth-ave., not 
 five blocks from here, and the Lieutenant's somethin' 
 of a friend of mine. Is it a go ? " 
 
 " It is," says Langdon. 
 
 Hanged if he didn't mean it too, and before he can 
 change his mind we've had the papers all made out. 
 
 In the mornin' I 'phones Pembroke, and he comes 
 around to lug me up while he breaks the news to maw ; 
 for he says she'll need a lot of calmin' down. I was 
 lookin' for nothin' less than cat fits, too. But say, she 
 don't even turn on the sprayer. 
 
 " The navy ! " says she. " Why, how sweet ! Oh, 
 I'm so glad ! Won't Langdon make a lovely officer ? " 
 
 I don't know how it's goin' to work out ; but there's 
 one sure thing : it'll be some time before Langdon'll be 
 pestered any more by the traffic cops. 
 
 And, now that the state room's engaged, you ought 
 to see how well Pembroke is standin' the blow. 
 
 227
 
 XV 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 WHEN me and art gets into the ring together, you 
 might as well burn the form sheet and slip the band 
 back on your bettin' roll, for there's no tellin' who'll 
 take the count. 
 
 It was Cornelia Ann that got me closer to art than 
 I'd ever been before, or am like to get again. Now, 
 I didn't hunt her up, nor she didn't come gunnin' for 
 me. It was a case of runnin' down signals and collid- 
 in' on the stair landin'; me makin' a grand rush out 
 of the Studio for a cross town car, and she just get- 
 tin' her wind 'fore she tackled the next flight. 
 
 Not that I hit her so hard; but it was enough to 
 spill the paper bundles she has piled up on one arm, 
 and start 'em bouncin' down the iron steps. First 
 comes a loaf of bread; next a bottle of pickles, that 
 goes to the bad the third hop; and exhibit C was 
 one of these ten-cent dishes of baked beans the pale 
 kind, that look like they'd floated in with the tide. 
 Course, that dinky tin pan they was in don't land flat. 
 It slips out of the bag as slick as if it was greased, 
 stands up on edge, and rolls all the way down, distrib- 
 
 228
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 utin' the mess from top to bottom, as even as if it 
 was laid on with a brush. 
 
 " My luncheon ! " says she, in a reg'lar me-che-e- 
 ild voice. 
 
 " Lunch ! " says I. " That's what I'd call a spread. 
 This one's on the house, but the next one will be on 
 me. Will to-morrow do ? " 
 
 " Ye-es," says she. 
 
 " Sorry," says I, " but I'm runnin' behind sched. 
 now. What's the name, miss ? " 
 
 " C. A. Belter, top floor," says she ; " but don't mind 
 about " 
 
 "That'll be all right, too," says I, skippin' down 
 over the broken glass and puntin' the five-cent white 
 through the door for a goal. 
 
 It's little things like that, though, that keeps a man 
 from forgettin' how he was brought up. I'm ready 
 enough with some cheap jolly, but when it comes to 
 throwin' in a "beg pardon" at the right place I'm a 
 late comer. I thinks of 'em sometime next day. 
 
 Course, I tries to get even by orderin' a four- 
 pound steak, with mushroom trimmin's, sent around 
 from the hotel on the corner ; but I couldn't get over 
 thinkin' how disappointed she looked when she saw 
 that pan of beans doin' the pinwheel act. I know I've 
 seen the time when a plate of pork-and in my fist 
 would have been worth all the turkey futures you 
 
 229
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 could stack in a barn, and maybe it was that way 
 with her. 
 
 Anyway, she didn't die of it, for a couple of days 
 later she knocks easy on the Studio door and gets 
 her head in far enough to say how nice it was of me 
 to send her that lovely steak. 
 
 " Forget it," says I. 
 
 " Never," says she. " I'm going to do a bas relief 
 of you, in memory of it." 
 
 " A barrel which ? " says I. 
 
 Honest, I wa'n't within a mile of bein' next. It 
 comes out that she does sculpturing and wants to make 
 a kind of embossed picture of me in plaster of paris, 
 like what the peddlers sell around on vacant stoops. 
 
 " I'd look fine on a panel, wouldn't I ? " says I. 
 " Much obliged, miss, but sittin' for my halftone is 
 where I draws the line. I'll lend you Swifty Joe, 
 though." 
 
 She ain't acquainted with the only registered assist- 
 ant professor of physical culture in the country, but she 
 says if he don't mind she'll try her hand on him first, 
 and then maybe I'll let her do one of me. Now, you'd 
 thought Swifty, with that before-takin' mug of his, 
 would have hid in the cellar 'fore he'd let anybody 
 make a cast of it ; but when the proposition is sprung, 
 he's as pleased as if it was for the front page of Fox's 
 pink. 
 
 230
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 That was what fetched me up to that seven by nine 
 joint of hers, next the roof, to have a look at what 
 she'd done to Swifty Joe. He tows me up there. And 
 say, blamed if she hadn't got him to the life, broken 
 nose, ingrowin' forehead, whopper jaw, and all! 
 
 " How about it ? " says Joe, grinnin' at me as proud 
 as if he'd broke into the Fordham Heights Hall of 
 Fame. 
 
 " I never see anything handsomer of the kind/' ; 
 says I. 
 
 Then I got to askin' questions about the sculpturin' 
 business, and how the market was ; so Miss Belter and 
 me gets more or less acquainted. She was a meek, 
 slimpsy little thing, with big, hungry lookin' eyes, and 
 a double hank of cinnamon coloured hair that I should 
 have thought would have made her neck ache to carry 
 around. 
 
 Judgin' by the outfit in her ranch, the sculp-game 
 ain't one that brings in sable lined coats and such 
 knickknacks. There was a bed couch in one corner, 
 a single burner gas stove on an upended trunk in 
 another, and chunks of clay all over the place. Light 
 housekeepin' and art don't seem to mix very well. 
 Maybe they're just as tasty, but I'd as soon have my 
 eggs cooked in a fryin' pan that hadn't been used for 
 a mortar bed. 
 
 We passed the time of day reg'lar after that, and 
 231
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 now and then she'd drop into the front office to show 
 me some piece she'd made. I finds out that the C. A. 
 in her name stands for Cornelia Ann; so I drops the 
 Miss Belter and calls her that. 
 
 " Father always calls me that, too," says she. 
 
 "Yes? "says I. 
 
 That leads up to the story of how the old folks out 
 in Minnekeegan have been backin' her for a two years' 
 stab at art in a big city. Seems it has been an awful 
 drain on the fam'ly gold reserve, and none of 'em took 
 any stock in such foolishness anyway, but she'd jollied 
 'em into lettin' her have a show to make good, and now 
 the time was about up. 
 
 " Well," says I, " you ain't all in, are you? " 
 
 Her under lip starts to pucker up at that, and them 
 hungry eyes gets foggy ; but she takes a new grip on 
 herself, makes a bluff at grinnin', and says, throaty 
 like, " It's no use pretending any longer, I I'm a 
 failure!" 
 
 Say, that makes me feel like an ice cream sign in 
 a blizzard. I hadn't been lookin' to dig up any private 
 heart throbs like that. But there it was; so I starts 
 in to cheer her up the best I knew how. 
 
 " Course," says I, " it's a line I couldn't shake a 
 nickel out of in a year; but if it suited me, and I 
 thought I was onto my job, I'd make it yield the 
 coin, or go good and hungry tryin'." 
 
 232
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 " Perhaps I have gone hungry," says she, quiet like. 
 
 "Honest?" says I. 
 
 " That steak lasted me for a week," says she. 
 
 There was more particulars followed that throws 
 Cornelia Ann on the screen in a new way for me. 
 Grit! Why, she had enough to sand a tarred roof. 
 She'd lived on ham knuckles and limed eggs and 
 Swiss cheese for months. She'd turned her dresses 
 inside out and upside down, lined her shoes with paper 
 when it was wet, and wore a long sleeved shirt waist 
 when there wa'n't another bein' used this side of the 
 prairies. And you can judge what that means by 
 watchin' the women size each other up in a street 
 car. 
 
 " If they'd only given me half a chance to show 
 what I could do ! " says she. " But I didn't get the 
 chance, and perhaps it was my fault. So what's the 
 use? I'll just pack up and go back to Minnekeegan." 
 
 " Minnekeegan ! " says I. " That sounds tough. 
 What then?" 
 
 " Oh," says she, " my brother is foreman in a broom 
 factory. He will get me a job at pasting labels." 
 
 " Say," says I, gettin' a quick rush of blood to the 
 head, " s'posen I should contract for a full length of 
 Swifty Joe to hang here in " 
 
 " No you don't ! " says she, edgin' off. " It's good 
 of you, but charity work isn't what I want." 
 
 233
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Say, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but that broom 
 fact'ry proposition stayed with me quite some time. 
 The thoughts of anyone havin' to go back to a place 
 with a name like Minnekeegan was bilious enough ; but 
 for a girl that had laid out to give Macmonnies a run 
 for the gold medal, the label pastin' prospect must have 
 loomed up like a bad dream. 
 
 There's one good thing about other folks's troubles 
 though they're easy put on the shelf. Soon's I gets 
 to work I forgets all about Cornelia Ann. I has to 
 run out to Rockywold that afternoon, to put Mr. Purdy 
 Pell through his reg'lar course of stunts that he's been 
 takin' since some one told him he was gettin' to be a 
 forty-fat. There was a whole bunch of swells on 
 hand; for it's gettin' so, now they can go and come 
 in their own tourin' cars, that winter house parties 
 are just as common as in summer. 
 
 " Thank heaven you've come ! " says Mr. Pell. " It 
 gives me a chance to get away from cards for an hour 
 or so." 
 
 " Guess you need it," says I. " You look like the 
 trey of spades." 
 
 Then Pinckney shows up in the gym., and he no 
 sooner sees us at work with the basket ball than he 
 begins to peel off. " I say there ! " says he. " Count 
 me in on some of that, or I'll be pulled into another 
 rubber." 
 
 234
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 About an hour later, after they'd jollied me into 
 stayin' all night, I puts on a sweater and starts out 
 for some hoof exercise in the young blizzard that was 
 makin' things white outside. Sadie holds me up at 
 the door. Her cheeks was blazin', and I could see 
 she was holdin' the Sullivan temper down with both 
 hands. 
 I " Hello ! " says I. " What's been stirrin' you up ? " 
 
 " Bridge ! " snaps she. " I guess if you'd been 
 glared at for two hours, and called stupid when you 
 lost, and worse names when you won, you'd feel like 
 throwing the cards at some one." 
 
 " Well, why didn't you? " says I. 
 ' " I did," says she, " and there's an awful row on ; 
 but I don't care ! And if you don't stop that grinnin', 
 I'll " 
 
 Well, she does it. That's the way with Sadie, words 
 is always too slow for her. Inside of a minute she's 
 out chasin' me around the front yard and peltin' me 
 with snow balls. 
 
 " See here," says I, diggin' a hunk of snow out of 
 one ear, " that kind of sport's all to the merry ; but 
 if I was you I'd dress for the part. Snowballin' in 
 slippers and silk stockin's and a lace dress is a pneu- 
 monia bid, even if you are such a warm one on 
 top." 
 
 " Who's a red head ? " says she. " You just wait a 
 235
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTYi 
 
 minute, Shorty McCabe, and I'll make you sorry for 
 that!" 
 
 It wa'n't a minute, it was nearer fifteen; but when 
 Sadie shows up again she's wearin' the slickest Canuck 
 costume you ever see, all blanket stripes and red tas- 
 sels, like a girl on a gift calendar. 
 
 " Whe-e-e ! " says she, and the snow begins to fly 
 in chunks. It was the damp, packy kind that used to 
 make us go out and soak the tall hats when we was 
 kids. And Sadie hasn't forgot how to lam 'em in, 
 either. We was havin' it hot and lively, all over the 
 lawn, when the first thing I knows out comes Mrs. 
 Purdy Pell and Pinckney and a lot of others, to join 
 in the muss. They'd dragged out a whole raft of 
 toboggan outfits from the attic, and the minute they 
 gets 'em on they begins to act as coltish as two-year- 
 olds. 
 
 Well say, you wouldn't have thought high rollers 
 like them, that gets their fun out of playin' the glass 
 works exhibit at the op'ra, and eatin' one A. M. sup- 
 pers at Sherry's, and doublin' no trumps at a quarter 
 a point, could unbuckle enough to build snow forts, 
 and yell like Indians, and cut up like kids generally. 
 But they does washed each other's faces, and laughed 
 and whooped it up until dark. Didn't need the dry 
 Martinis to jolly up appetites for that bunch when 
 dinner time come, and if there was anyone awake in 
 
 236
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 Rocky wold after ten o'clock that night it was the butler 
 and the kitchen help. 
 
 I looked for 'em to forget it all by mornin' and start 
 in again on their punky card games ; but they was all 
 up bright and early, plannin' out new stunts. There'd 
 been a lot of snow dropped durin' the night, and some 
 one gets struck with the notion that buildin' snow men 
 would be the finest sport in the world. They couldn't 
 hardly wait to eat breakfast before they gets on their 
 blanket clothes and goes at it. They was rollin' up 
 snow all over the place, as busy as 'longshoremen all 
 but Pinckney. He gives out that him and me has 
 been appointed an art committee, to rake in an entrance 
 fee of ten bones each and decide who gets the purse 
 for doin' the best job. 
 
 " G'wan ! " says I. " I couldn't referee no such fool 
 tournament as this." 
 
 " That's right, be modest ! " says he. " Don't mind 
 our feelings at all." 
 
 Then Sadie and Mrs. Pell butts in and says I've just 
 got to do it ; so I does. We gives 'em so long to pile 
 up their raw material, and half an hour after that to 
 carve out what they thinks they can do best, nothin' 
 barred. Some starts in on Teddy bears, one gent plans 
 out a cop; but the most of 'em don't try anything 
 harder'n plain snow men, with lumps of coal for eyes, 
 and pipes stuck in to finish off the face. 
 
 237
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 It was about then that Count Skiphauser moves out 
 of the background and begins to play up strong. He's 
 one of these big, full blooded pretzels that's been every- 
 where, and seen everything, and knows it all, and 
 thinks there ain't anything but what he can do a little 
 better'n anybody else. 
 
 " Oh, well," says he, " I suppose I must show you 
 what snow carving really is. I won a prize for this 
 sort of thing in Berlin, you know." 
 
 " It's all over now," says I to Pinckney. " You 
 heard Skippy pickin' himself for a winner, didn't 
 you?" 
 
 " He's a bounder," says Pinckney, talkin' corner- 
 wise " lives on his bridge and poker winnings. He 
 mustn't get the prize." 
 
 But Skiphauser ain't much more'n blocked out a 
 head and shoulders 'fore it was a cinch he was a 
 ringer, with nothin' but a lot of rank amateurs against 
 him. Soon's the rest saw what they was up against 
 they all laid down, for he was makin' 'em look like 
 six car fares. Course, there wa'n't nothin' to do but 
 join the gallery and watch him win in a walk. 
 
 " Oh, it's a bust of Bismarck, isn't it? " says one of 
 the women. " How clever of you, Count ! " 
 
 At that Skippy throws out his chest and begins to 
 chuck in the flourishes. That kind of business suited 
 him down to the ground. He cocks his head on one 
 
 238
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 side, twists up his lip whiskers like Billy the Tooth, 
 and goes through all the motions of a man that knows 
 he's givin' folks a treat. 
 
 "Hates himself, don't he?" says I. "He must 
 have graduated from some tombstone foundry." 
 
 Pinckney was wild. So was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy 
 Pell, on account of the free-for-all bein' turned into 
 a game of solitaire. 
 
 " I just wish," says Sadie, " that there was some 
 way of taking him down a peg. If I only knew of 
 someone who " 
 
 " I do, if you don't," says I. 
 
 v 
 
 Say, what do you reckon had been cloggin' my 
 thought works all that time. I takes the three of 'em 
 to one side and springs my proposition, tellin' 'em I'd 
 put it through if they'd stand for it. Would they? 
 They're so tickled they almost squeals. 
 
 I gets Swifty Joe at the Studio on the long distance 
 and gives him his instructions. It was a wonder he 
 got it straight, for sometimes you can't get an idea 
 into his head without usin' a brace and bit, but this 
 trip he shows up for a high brow. Pretty quick we 
 gets word that it's all O. K. Pinckney bulletins it 
 to the crowd that, while Sadie's pulled out of the com- 
 petition, she's asked leave to put on a sub, and that the 
 prize awardin' will be delayed until after the returns 
 are all in. 
 
 239
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Meantime I climbs into the sleigh and goes down 
 to meet the express. Sure enough, Cornelia Ann was 
 aboard, a bit hazy about the kind of a stunt that's ex- 
 pected of her, but ready for anything. I don't go into 
 many details, for fear of givin' her stage fright; but 
 I lets her know that if she's got any sculpturin' tricks 
 up her sleeve now's the time to shake 'em out. 
 
 " I've been tellin' some friends of mine," says I, 
 " that when it comes to clay art, or plaster of paris art, 
 you was the real lollypop ; and I reckoned that if you 
 could do pieces in mud, you could do 'em just as well 
 in snow." 
 
 " Snow ! " says she. " Why, I never tried." 
 
 Maybe I'd banked too much on Cornelia, or per- 
 haps she was right in sayin' this was out of her line. 
 Anyway, it was a mighty disappointed trio that sized 
 her up when I landed her under the porte cochere. 
 
 When she's run her eye over the size and swellness 
 of the place I've brought her to, and seen a sample of 
 the folks, she looks half scared to death. And you 
 wouldn't have played her for a fav'rite, either, if you'd 
 seen the cheap figure she cut, with them big eyes rollin' 
 around, as if she was huntin' for the nearest way out. 
 But we give her a cup of hot tea, makes her put on a 
 pair of fleece lined overshoes and somebody's Persian 
 lamb jacket, and leads her out to make a try for the 
 championship. 
 
 240
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 Some of 'em was sorry of her, and tried to be 
 sociable; but others just stood around and snickered 
 and whispered things behind their hands. Honest, I 
 could have thrown brickbats at myself for bein' such a 
 mush head. That wouldn't have helped any though, 
 so I gets busy and rolls together a couple of chunks 
 of snow about as big as flour barrels and piles one on 
 top of the other. 
 
 " It's up to you, Cornie," says I. " Can't you dig 
 something or other out of that ? " 
 
 She don't say whether she can or can't, but just 
 walks around it two or three times, lookin' at it 
 dreamy, like she was in a trance. Next she braces 
 up a bit, calls for an old carvin' knife and a kitchen 
 spoon, and goes to work, the whole push watchin' 
 her as if she was some freak in a cage. 
 
 I pipes off her motions for awhile real hopeful, and 
 then I edges out where I could look the other way. 
 Why say, all she'd done was to hew out something 
 that looks like a lot of soap boxes piled up for a 
 bonfire. It was a case of funk, I could see that; and 
 maybe I wa'n't feelin' like I'd carried a gold brick 
 down to the subtreasury and asked for the acid 
 test. 
 
 Then I begins to hear the "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" 
 come from the crowd. First off I thought they was 
 guyin' her, but when I strolls back near enough for a 
 
 241
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 peek at what she was up to, my mouth comes open, too. 
 Say, you wouldn't believe it less'n you'd seen it done, 
 but she was just fetchin' out of that heap of snow, 
 most as quick and easy as if she was unpackin' it from 
 a crate, the stunningest lookin' altogether girl that I 
 ever see outside a museum. 
 
 I don't know who it was supposed to be, or why. 
 She's holdin' up with one hand what draperies she's 
 got which wa'n't any too many an' with the other 
 she's reachin' above her head after somethin' or other 
 maybe the soap on the top shelf. But she was a 
 beaut, all right. And all Cornelia was doin' to bring 
 her out was just slashin' away careless with the knife 
 and spoon handle, hardly stoppin' a second between 
 strokes. She simply had 'em goggle eyed. I reckon 
 they'd seen things just as fine and maybe better, but 
 they hadn't had a front seat before, while a little ninety- 
 pound cinnamon top like Cornelia Ann stepped up 
 and yanked a whitewashed angel out of a snow 
 heap. 
 
 " It's wonderful ! " says Mrs. Purdy Pell. 
 
 " Looks to me like we had Skippy fingerin' the 
 citrus, don't it ? " says I. 
 
 The Count he's been standin' there with his mouth 
 open, like the rest of us, only growin' redder 'n' 
 redder. 
 
 But just then Cornelia makes one last swipe, drops 
 242
 
 SHORTY'S GO WITH ART 
 
 her tools, and steps back to take a view. We all 
 quits to see what's comin' next. Well, she looks and 
 looks at that Lady Reacher she's dug out, never savin' 
 a word; and before we knows it she's slumped right 
 down there in the snow, with both hands over her face, 
 doin' the weep act like a kid. 
 
 In two shakes it was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell to 
 the rescue, one on each side, while the rest of us gawps 
 on and looks foolish. 
 
 " What is it, you poor darling ? " says Sadie. 
 
 Finally, after a good weep, Cornie unloosens her 
 trouble. " Oh, oh ! " says she. " I just know it's go- 
 ing to rain to-morrow ! " 
 
 Now wouldn't that give you a foolish fit ? 
 
 "What of it?" says Sadie. 
 
 " That," says she, pointin' to the snow lady. " She'll 
 be gone forever. Oh, it's wicked, wicked ! " 
 
 " Well," says I, " she's too big to go in the ice 
 box." 
 
 " Never mind, dear," says Mrs. Purdy Pell ; " you 
 shall stay right here and do another one, in solid 
 marble. I'll give you a thousand for a duplicate of 
 that." 
 
 " And then you must do something for me," says 
 Sadie. 
 
 " And me, too," says Mrs. Dicky Madison. 
 
 I didn't wait to hear any more, for boostin' lady 
 243
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 sculpturesses ain't my reg'lar work. But, from all I 
 hear of Cornelia Ann, she won't paste labels in any 
 broom fact'ry. 
 
 For your simple liver and slow quitter, art's all 
 right; but it's a long shot, at that. What? 
 
 244
 
 XVI 
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 SAY, there's no tellin', is there? Sometimes the 
 quietest runnin' bubbles blows up with the biggest 
 bang. Now look at Ferdy. He was as retirin' and 
 modest as a new lodge member at his first meetin'. 
 Why, he's so anxious to dodge makin' a show of him- 
 self that when he comes here for a private course I 
 has to lock the Studio door and post Swifty Joe on the 
 outside to see that nobody butts in. 
 
 All the Dobsons is that way. They're the kind of 
 folks that lives on Fifth-ave., with the front shades 
 always pulled down, and they shy at gettin' their 
 names in the papers like it was bein' served with a 
 summons. 
 
 Course, they did have their dose of free advertisin* 
 once, when that Tootsy Peroxide bobbed up and tried 
 to break old Peter Dobson's will; but that case hap- 
 pened so long ago, and there's been so many like it 
 since, that hardly anybody but the Dobsons remembers 
 it. Must have been a good deal of a jolt at the time, 
 though ; for as far as I've seen, they're nice folks, and 
 
 245
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 the real thing in the fat wad line, specially Ferdy. 
 He's that genteel and refined he has to have pearl grey 
 boxin' gloves to match his gym. suit. 
 
 Well, I wa'n't thinkin' any of him, or his set, havin' 
 just had a session with a brewer's son that I've took 
 on durin' the dull season, when I looks out into the 
 front office and sees my little old Bishop standin' there 
 moppin' his face. 
 
 " Hello, Bishop ! " I sings out. " Thought you was 
 in Newport, herdin' the flock." 
 
 " So I was, Shorty," says he, " until six hours ago. 
 I came down to look for a stray lamb." 
 
 " Tried Wall Street? " says I. 
 
 " He is not that kind of a lamb," says the Bishop. 
 " It is Ferdinand Dobson. Have you seen him 
 recently ? " 
 
 "What! Ferdy?" says I. "Not for weeks. 
 They're all up at their Lenox place, ain't they ? " 
 
 No, they wa'n't. And then the Bishop puts me 
 next to a little news item that hadn't got into the 
 society column yet Ferdy, after gettin' to be most 
 twenty-five, has been hooked. The girl's name was 
 Alicia, and soon's I heard it I placed her, havin' seen 
 her a few times at different swell ranches where I've 
 been knockin' around in the background. As I re- 
 members her, she has one of these long, high toned 
 faces, and a shape to match not what you'd call a 
 
 246
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 neck twister, but somethin' real classy and high browed, 
 just the sort you'd look for Ferdy to tag. 
 
 Seems they'd been doin' the lovey-dovey for more'n 
 a year; but all on the sly, meetin' each other at after- 
 noon teas, and now and then havin' a ten-minute hand 
 holdin' match under a palm somewhere. They was 
 so cute about it that even their folks didn't suspect it 
 was a case of honey and honey boy; not that anyone 
 would have raised a kick, but because Ferdy don't 
 want any fuss made about it. 
 
 When Alicia's mother gets the facts, though, she 
 writes a new program. She don't stand for springin' 
 any quiet weddin's on her set. She plans a big party, 
 where the engagement bulletin is to be flashed on the 
 screen reg'lar and proper, so's folks can be orderin' 
 their dresses and weddin' presents. 
 
 Ferdy balks some at the thought of bein' dragged 
 to the centre of the stage; but he grits his teeth and 
 tells 'em that for this once they can go as far as they 
 like. He even agrees to leave home for a week and 
 mix it at a big house party, just to get himself broke 
 in to meetin' strangers. 
 
 Up to within two days of the engagement stunt he 
 was behavin' lovely; and the next thing they knows, 
 just when he should be gettin' ready to show up at 
 Newport, he can't be found. It has all the looks of 
 his leavin' his clothes on the bank and jumpin' the 
 
 247
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 night freight. Course, the Dobsons ain't sayin' a word 
 to Alicia's folks yet. They gets their friends together 
 to organise a still hunt for Ferdy ; and the Bishop bein' 
 one of the inside circle, he's sent out as head scout. 
 
 " And I am at my wits' ends," says he. " No one 
 has seen him in Newport, and I can't find him at any 
 of his clubs here." 
 
 " How about the Fifth-ave. mausoleum? " says I. 
 
 " His man is there," says the Bishop ; " but he seems 
 unable to give me any information." 
 
 " Does, eh ? " says I. " Well, you take it from me 
 that if anyone's got a line on Ferdy, it's that clam faced 
 Kupps of his. He's been trained so fine in the silence 
 business that he hardly dares open his mouth when he 
 eats. Go up there and put him through the wringer." 
 
 "Do what?" says the Bishop. 
 
 " Give him the headquarters quiz," says I. " Tell 
 him you come straight from mother and sisters, and 
 that Ferdy's got to be found." 
 
 " I hardly feel equal to doing just that," says the 
 Bishop in his mild way. " Now if you could 
 only " 
 
 " Why, sure ! " says I. " It'd do me good to take 
 a whirl out of that Englishman. I'll make him give 
 up!" 
 
 He's a bird though, that Kupps. I hadn't talked 
 with him two minutes before I would have bet my 
 
 248
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 pile he knew all about where Ferdy was roostin' and 
 what he was up to; but when it come to draggin' out 
 the details, you might just as well have been tryin' 
 to pry up a pavin' stone with a fountain pen. Was 
 Ferdy in town, or out of town, and when would he 
 be back? Kupps couldn't say. He wouldn't even tell 
 how long it was since he had seen Ferdy last. And 
 say, you know how pig headed one of them hen brained 
 Cockneys can be ? I feels my collar gettin' tight. 
 
 " Look here, Hiccups ! " says I. " You " 
 
 " Kupps, sir," says he. " Thomas Kupps is my 
 full nyme, sir." 
 
 " Well, Teacups, then, if that suits you better," says 
 I. " You don't seem to have got it into your head 
 that the Bishop ain't just buttin' in here for the fun 
 of the thing. This matter of retrievin' Ferdy is 
 serious. Now you're sure he didn't leave any private 
 messages, or notes or anything of that kind ? " 
 
 " Nothink of the sort, sir ; nothink whatever," says 
 Kupps. 
 
 " Well, you just show us up to his rooms," says I, 
 " and we'll have a look around for ourselves. Eh, 
 Bishop?" 
 
 " Perhaps it would be the best thing to do," says the 
 Bishop. 
 
 Kupps didn't want to do it; but I gives him a look 
 that changes his mind, and up we goes. I was think- 
 
 249
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 in' that if Ferdy had got chilly feet at the last minute 
 and done the deep dive, maybe he'd left a few lines 
 layin' around his desk. There wa'n't anything in 
 sight, though ; nothin' but a big photograph of a wide, 
 full chested lady, propped up against the rail. 
 
 " That don't look much like the fair Alicia," says I. 
 
 The Bishop puts on his nigh-to glasses and says it 
 ain't. He thinks it must have been took of a lady 
 that he'd seen Ferdy chinnin' at the house party, where 
 he got his last glimpse of him. 
 
 " Good deal of a hummin' bird, she is, eh ? " says I, 
 pickin' it up. " Tutty tut ! Look what's here ! " Be- 
 hind it was a photo of Alicia. 
 
 " And here's somethin' else," says I. On the back 
 of the big picture was scribbled, " From Ducky to 
 Ferdy," and the date. 
 
 " Yesterday ! " gasps the Bishop. 
 
 " Well, well ! " says I. " That's advancin' the spark 
 some! If he meets her only a week or so ago, and 
 by yesterday she's got so far as bein' his ducky, it looks 
 like Alicia'd have to get out and take the car ahead." 
 
 The Bishop acts stunned, gazin' from me to the 
 picture, as if he'd been handed one on the dizzy bone. 
 "You you don't mean," says he, "that you suspect 
 Ferdy of of " 
 
 " I hate to think it," says I; "but this looks like a 
 quick shift. Kupps, who's Ferdy's lady friend ? " 
 
 250
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 " Mr. Dobson didn't sye, sir," says Kupps. 
 
 " Very thoughtless of him," says I. " Come on, 
 Bishop, we'll take this along as a clue and see what 
 Vandy has to say." 
 
 He's a human kodak, Vandy is makes a livin' tak- 
 in' pictures for the newspapers. You can't break into 
 the swell push, or have an argument with Teddy, or 
 be tried for murder, without Vandy's showin' up to 
 make a few negatives. So I flashes the photo of 
 Ducky on him. 
 
 " Who's the wide one ? " says I. 
 
 " Why, don't you know who that is, Shorty ? " 
 says he. 
 
 " Say, do you think I'd be chasin' up any flash- 
 light pirate like you, if I did ? " says I. " What's her 
 name ? " 
 
 " That's Madam Brooklini, of course," says he. 
 
 " What, the thousand-dollar-a-minute warbler ? " 
 says I. " And me seein' her lithographs all last win- 
 ter! Gee, Bishop! I thought you followed grand 
 opera closer'n that." 
 
 " I should have recalled her," says the Bishop ; " but 
 I see so many faces " 
 
 " Only a few like that, though," says I. " Vandy, 
 where do you reckon Mrs. Greater New York could be 
 located just about now?" 
 
 Vandy has the whole story down pat. Seems she's 
 251
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY, 
 
 been over here out of season bringin' suit against her 
 last manager; but havin' held him up for everything 
 but the gold fillin' in his front teeth, she is booked to 
 sail back to her Irish castle at four in the mornin'. 
 He knows the steamer and the pier number. 
 
 " Four A. M., eh ? " says I. " That means she's 
 likely to be aboard now, gettin' settled. Bishop, if 
 that Ducky business was a straight steer, it's ten to 
 one that a friend of ours is there sayin' good-bye. 
 Shall we follow it up ? " 
 
 " I can hardly credit it," says he. " However, if 
 you think " 
 
 " It's no cinch," says I ; " but this is a case where 
 it won't do to bank on past performances. From 
 all the signs, Ferdy has struck a new gait." 
 
 The Bishop throws up both hands. " How clearly 
 you put it," says he, " and how stupid of me not 
 to understand ! Should we visit the steamer, or 
 not?" 
 
 " Bishop,"^ says I, ," you're a good guesser. We 
 should." 
 
 And there wa'n't any trouble about locatin' the high 
 C artist. All we has to do is to walk along the 
 promenade deck until we comes to a suite where the 
 cabin stewards was poppin' in and out, luggin' bunches 
 of flowers and baskets of fruit, and gettin' the book 
 signed for telegrams. The Bishop was for askin' ques- 
 
 252
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 tions and sendin' in his card; but I gets him by the 
 sleeve and tows him right in. 
 
 I hadn't made any wrong guess, either. There in 
 the corner of the state room, planted in a big wicker 
 arm chair, with a jar of long stemmed American 
 beauts on one side, was Madam Brooklini. On the 
 other side, sittin' edgeways on a canvas stool and 
 holdin' her left hand, was Ferdy. 
 
 I could make a guess as to how the thing had come 
 around; Ferdy breakin' from his shell at the house 
 party, runnin' across Brooklini under a soft light, and 
 losin' his head the minute she begins cooin' low notes 
 to him. That's what she was doin' now, him gazin' 
 up at her, and her gazin' down at him. It was about 
 the mushiest performance I ever see. 
 
 " Ahem ! " says the Bishop, clearin' his throat and 
 blushin' a lovely maroon colour. " I er we did not 
 intend to intrude; but " 
 
 Then it was up to Ferdy to show the red. He 
 opens his mouth and gawps at us for a whole minute 
 before he can get out a word. " Why why, Bishop ! " 
 he pants. " What how " 
 
 Before he has time to choke, or the Bishop can 
 work up a case of apoplexy, I jumps into the ring. 
 " Excuse us doin' the goat act," says I ; " but the 
 Bishop has got some word for you from the folks at 
 home, and he wants to get it off his mind." 
 
 253
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Ah, friends of yours, Ferdy ? " says Madam Brook- 
 lini, throwin' us about four hundred dollars' worth of 
 smile. 
 
 There was nothin' for Ferdy to do then but pull 
 himself together and make us all acquainted. And say, 
 I never shook hands with so much jewelry all at once 
 before! She has three or four bunches of sparks on 
 each finger, not to mention a thumb ring. Oh, there 
 wa'n't any mistakin' who skimmed the cream off the 
 box office receipts after you'd took a look at her ! 
 
 And for a straight front Venus she was the real 
 maraschino. Course, even if the complexion was 
 true, you wouldn't put her down as one of this spring's 
 hatch ; but for a broad, heavy weight girl she was the 
 fancy goods. And when she cuts loose with that 
 eighteen-carat voice of hers, and begins to roll them 
 misbehavin' eyes, you forgot how the chair was creak- 
 in' under her. The Bishop has all he can do to re- 
 member why he was there; but he manages to get 
 out that he'd like a few minutes on the side with 
 Ferdy. 
 
 " If your message relates in any way to my return 
 to Newport," says Ferdy, stiffenin' up, " it is useless. 
 I am not going there ! " 
 
 " But, my dear Ferdy " begins the Bishop, when 
 
 the lady cuts in. 
 
 " That's right, Bishop," says she. " I do hope you 
 254
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 can persuade the silly boy to stop following me around 
 and teasing me to marry him." 
 
 " Oh, naughty ! " says I under my breath. 
 
 The Bishop just looks from one to the other, and 
 then he braces up and says, " Ferdinand, this is not 
 possible, is it ? " 
 
 It was up to Ferdy again. He gives a squirm or 
 two as he catches the Bishop's eye, and the dew was 
 beginnin' to break out on his noble brow, when Ducky 
 reaches over and gives his hand a playful little squeeze. 
 That was a nerve restorer. 
 
 " Bishop," says he, " I must tell you that I am madly, 
 hopelessly, in love with this lady, and that I mean to 
 make her my wife." 
 
 " Isn't he the dearest booby you ever saw ! " gurgles 
 Madam Brooklini. " He has been saying nothing but 
 that for the last five days. And now he says he is 
 going to follow me across the ocean and keep on 
 saying it. But you must stop, Ferdy; really, you 
 must." 
 
 " Never ! " says Ferdy, gettin' a good grip on the cut 
 glass exhibit. 
 
 " Such persistence ! " says Ducky, shiftin' her search- 
 lights from him to us and back again. "And he 
 knows I have said I would not marry again. I 
 mustn't. My managers don't like it. Why, every 
 time I marry they raise a most dreadful row. But 
 
 255
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 what can I do? Ferdy insists, you see ; and if he keeps 
 it up, I just know I shall have to take him. Please be 
 good, Ferdy ! " 
 
 Wouldn't that make you seasick? But the Bishop 
 comes to the front like he'd heard a call to man the 
 lifeboat. 
 
 " It may influence you somewhat," says he, " to 
 learn that for nearly a year Ferdinand has been secretly 
 engaged to a very estimable young woman." 
 
 " I know," says she, tearin' off a little giggle. 
 " Ferdy has told me all about Alicia. What a wicked, 
 deceitful wretch he is ! isn't he ? Aren't you ashamed, 
 Ferdy, to act so foolish over me ? " 
 
 If Ferdy was, he hid it well. All he seemed willin' 
 to do was to sit there, holdin' her hand and lookin' 
 as soft as a custard pie, while the Lady Williamsburg 
 tells what a tough job she has dodgin' matrimony, on 
 account of her yieldin' disposition. I didn't know 
 whether to hide my face in my hat, or go out and lean 
 over the rail. I guess the Bishop wa'n't feelin' any 
 too comfortable either ; but he was there to do his duty, 
 so he makes one last stab. 
 
 " Ferdinand," says he, " your mother asked me to 
 say that " 
 
 " Tell her I was never so happy in my life," says 
 Ferdy, pattin' a broadside of solitaires and marquise 
 rings. 
 
 256
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 " Come on, Bishop," says I. " There's only one cure 
 for a complaint of that kind, and it looks like Ferdy 
 was bound to take it." 
 
 We was just startin' for the deck, when the door was 
 blocked by a steward luggin' in another sheaf of roses, 
 and followed by a couple of middle aged, jolly lookin' 
 gents, smokin' cigars and marchin' arm in arm. One 
 was a tall, well built chap in a silk hat ; the other was 
 a short, pussy, ruby beaked gent in French flannels 
 and a Panama. 
 
 " Hello, sweety ! " says the tall one. 
 
 " Peekaboo, dearie ! " sings out the other. 
 
 " Dick ! Jimmy ! " squeals Madam Brooklini, givin' 
 a hand to each of 'em, and leavin' Ferdy holdin' the 
 air. " Oh, how delightfully thoughtful of you ! " 
 
 " Tried to ring in old Grubby, too," says Dick ; " but 
 he couldn't get away. He chipped in for the flowers, 
 though." 
 
 " Dear old Grubby ! " says she. " Let's see, he was 
 my third, wasn't he ? " 
 
 " Why, dearie ! " says Dicky boy, " I was Number 
 Three. Grubby was your second." 
 
 " Really ! " says she. " But I do get you so mixed. 
 Oh!" and then she remembers Ferdy. "Ducky, 
 dear," she goes on, " I do want you to know these 
 gentlemen two of my former husbands." 
 
 " Wha-a-at ! " gasps Ferdy, his eyes buggin' out 
 257,
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 I hears the Bishop groan and flop on a seat behind 
 me. Honest, it was straight! Dick and Jimmy was 
 a couple of discards, old Grubby was another, and 
 inside of a minute blamed if she hadn't mentioned a 
 fourth, that was planted somewhere on the other side. 
 Course, for a convention there wouldn't have been a 
 straight quorum ; but there was enough answerin' roll 
 call to make it pass for a reunion, all right. 
 
 And it was a peach while it lasted. The pair of 
 has-beens didn't have long to stay, one havin' to get 
 back to Chicago and the other bein' billed to start 
 on a yachtin' trip. They'd just run over to say by-by ; 
 and tell how they was plannin' an annual dinner, with 
 the judges and divorce lawyers for guests. Yes, yes, 
 they was a jolly couple, them two! All the Bishop 
 could do was lay back and fan himself as he listens, 
 once in awhile whisperin' to himself, " My, my ! " As 
 for Ferdy, he looked like he'd been hypnotised and was 
 waitin' to be woke up. 
 
 The pair was sayin' good-bye for the third and last 
 time, when in rushes a high strung, nervous young 
 feller with a pencil behind his ear and a pad in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Well, Larry, what is it now?" snaps out Madam 
 Brooklini, doin' the lightnin' change act with her voice. 
 " I am engaged, you see." 
 
 " Can't help it," says Larry. " Get fourteen re- 
 258 "
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 porters and eight snapshot men waiting to do the sail- 
 ing story for the morning editions. Shall I bring 
 'em up?" 
 
 " But I am entertaining two of my ex-husbands," 
 says the lady, " and " 
 
 " Great ! " says Larry. " We'll put 'em in the group. 
 Who's the other?" 
 
 "Oh, that's only Ferdy," says she. "I haven't 
 married him yet." 
 
 " Bully ! " says Larry. " We can get half a column 
 of space out of him alone. He goes in the pictures 
 too. We'll label him ' Next,' or * Number Five Elect/ 
 or something like that. Line 'em up outside, will 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " says Madam Brooklini. " What a 
 nuisance these press agents are ! But Larry is so en- 
 terprising. Come, we'll make a splendid group, the 
 four of us. Come, Ferdy." 
 
 " Reporters ! " Ferdy lets it come out of him kind 
 of hoarse and husky, like he'd just seen a ghost. 
 
 But I knew the view that he was gettin' ; his name 
 in the headlines, his picture on the front page, and all 
 the chappies at the club and the whole Newport 
 crowd chucklin' and nudgin' each other over the story 
 of how he was taggin' around after an op'ra singer 
 that had a syndicate of second hand husbands. 
 
 " No, no, no ! " says he. It was the only time I 
 259
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 ever heard Ferdy come anywhere near a yell, and 
 I wouldn't have believed he could have done it if I 
 hadn't had my eyes on him as he jumps clear of the 
 corner, makes a flyin' break through the bunch, and 
 streaks it down the deck for the forward companion- 
 way. 
 
 Me and the Bishop didn't wait to see the finish 
 of that group picture. We takes after Ferdy as fast 
 as the Bishop's wind would let us, he bein' afraid that 
 Ferdy was up to somethin' desperate, like jumpin' off 
 the dock. All Ferdy does, though, is jump into a cab 
 and drive for home, us trailin' on behind. We was 
 close enough at the end of the run to see him bolt 
 through the door; but Kupps tells us that Mr. Dobson 
 has left orders not to let a soul into the house. 
 
 Early next mornin', though, the Bishop comes 
 around and asks me to go up while he tries again, 
 and after we've stood on the steps for ten minutes, 
 waitin' for Kupps to take in a note, we're shown up 
 to Ferdy's bed room. He's in silk pajamas and bath 
 robe, lookin' white and hollow eyed. Every mornin' 
 paper in town is scattered around the room, and not 
 one of 'em with less than a whole column about how 
 Madam Brooklini sailed for Europe. 
 
 "Any of 'em got anything to say about Number 
 Five?" says I. 
 
 " Thank heaven, no ! " groans Ferdy. " Bishop, 
 360
 
 WHY FERDY DUCKED 
 
 what do you suppose poor dear Alicia thinks of me, 
 though?" 
 
 "Why, my son," says the Bishop, his little eyes 
 sparklin', " I suppose she is thinking that it is 'most 
 time for you to arrive in Newport, as you promised." 
 
 "Then she doesn't know what an ass I've been?" 
 says Ferdy. " No one has told her? " 
 
 " Shorty, have you ? " says the Bishop. 
 
 And when Ferdy sees me grinnin', and it breaks on 
 him that me and the Bishop are the only ones that 
 know about this dippy streak of his, he's the thank- 
 fulest cuss you ever saw. Alicia? He could hardly 
 get there quick enough to suit him ; and the knot's to 
 be tied inside of the next month. 
 
 " Marryin's all right," says I to Ferdy, " so long's 
 you don't let the habit grow on you." 
 
 261
 
 XVII 
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 SAY, I don't play myself for any human cheese 
 tester, but I did think I had Swifty Joe Gallagher all 
 framed up long ago. Not that I ever made any special 
 study of Swifty; but knowin' him for as long as I 
 have, and havin' him helpin' me in the Studio, I got 
 the notion that I was wise to most of his curves. I've 
 got both hands in the air now, though. 
 
 Coin' back over the last few months too, I can see 
 where I might have got a line on him before. But, oh 
 no ! Nothin' could jar me out of believin' he wouldn't 
 ever run against the form sheet I'd made out. The 
 first glimmer I gets was when I finds Joe in the front 
 office one day, planted before the big lookin' glass, 
 havin' a catch as catch can with his hair. 
 
 " Hully chee ! " says he, dippin' one of my military 
 brushes in the wash basin. " That's fierce, ain't it, 
 Shorty?" 
 
 " If it's your nerve in helpin' yourself to my bureau 
 knickknacks," says I, " I agree with you." 
 
 " Ah, can the croak ! " says he. " I ain't eatin' the 
 bristles off, am I!" 
 
 262
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 " Oh, I'm not fussin'," says I ; " but what you need 
 to use on that thatch is a currycomb and a lawn rake." 
 
 " Ah, say ! " says he, " I don't see as it's so much 
 worse than others I know of. It's all right when I can 
 get it to lay down in the back. How's that, now ? " 
 
 " Great ! " says I. " Couldn't be better if you'd used 
 fish glue." 
 
 Maybe you never noticed how Swifty's top piece is 
 finished off? He has a mud coloured growth that's 
 as soft as a shoe brush. It behaves well enough when 
 it's dry ; but after he's got it good and wet it breaks up 
 into ridges that overlap, same as shingles on a roof. 
 
 But then, you wouldn't be lookin' for any camel's 
 hair finish on a nut like Swifty's not with that face. 
 Course, he ain't to blame for the undershot jaw, nor 
 the way his ears lop, nor the width of his smile. We 
 don't all have gifts like that, thanks be ! And it wa'n't 
 on purpose Swifty had his nose bent in. That come 
 from not duckin' quick enough when Cans swung with 
 his right. 
 
 So long as he kept in his class, though, and wa'n't 
 called on to understudy Kyrle Bellew, Swifty met all 
 the specifications. If I was wantin' a parlour ornament, 
 I might shy some at Swifty's style of beauty; but 
 showin' bilious brokers how to handle the medicine 
 ball is a job that don't call for an exchange of photo- 
 graphs. He may have an outline that looks like a 
 
 263
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 map of a stone quarry, and perhaps his ways are a 
 little on the fritz, but Swifty's got good points that 
 I couldn't find bunched again if I was to hunt through 
 a crowd. So, when I find him worryin' over the set 
 of his back hair, I gets interested. 
 
 " What's the coiffure for, anyway ? " says I. " Coin' 
 to see the girl, eh ? " 
 
 Course, that was a josh. You can't look at Swifty 
 and try to think of him doin' the Romeo act without 
 grinnin'. 
 
 "Ahr, chee ! " says he. 
 
 Now, I've sprung that same jolly on him a good 
 many times; but I never see him work up a colour 
 over it before. Still, the idea of him gettin' kittenish 
 was too much of a strain on the mind for me to fol- 
 low up. 
 
 It was the same about his breakin' into song. He'd 
 never done that, either, until one mornin' I hears a 
 noise comin' from the back room that sounds like some 
 one blowin' on a bottle. I steps over to the door 
 easy, and hanged if I didn't make out that it was 
 Swifty takin' a crack at something that might be, 
 " Oh, how I love my Lulu ! " 
 
 " You must," says I, " if it makes you feel as bad 
 as all that. Does Lulu know it?" 
 
 "Ahr, chee ! " says he. 
 
 Ever hear Swifty shoot that over his shoulder with- 
 264
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 out turnin' his head? Talk about your schools of 
 expression! None of 'em could teach anyone to put 
 as much into two words as Swifty does into them. 
 They're a whole vocabulary, the way he uses 'em. 
 
 " Was you try in' to sing," says I, " or just givin' 
 an imitation of a steamboat siren on a foggy night?" 
 
 But all I could get out of Swifty was another 
 "Ahr, chee ! " He was too happy and satisfied to 
 join in any debate, and inside of ten minutes he's at 
 it again ; so I lets him spiel away. 
 
 "Well," thinks I, "I'm glad my joy don't have 
 any such effect on me as that. I s'pose I can stand 
 it, if he can." 
 
 It wa'n't more'n two nights later that I gets another 
 shock. I was feelin' a little nervous, to begin with, 
 for I'd billed myself to do a stunt I don't often tackle. 
 It was nothin' else than pilotin' a fluff delegation to 
 some art studio doin's. Sounds like a Percy job, 
 don't it ? But it was somethin' put up to me in a way 
 I couldn't dodge. 
 
 Maybe you remember me tellin' you awhile back 
 about Cornelia Ann Belter ? She was the Minnekeegan 
 girl that had a room on the top floor over the Physical 
 Culture Studio, and was makin' a stab at the sculp- 
 ture game the one that we got out to Rockywold 
 as a ringer in the snow carvin' contest. Got her placed 
 now? 
 
 265 
 
 s
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Well, you know how that little trick of makin' a 
 snow angel brought her in orders from Mrs. Purdy 
 Pell, and Sadie, and the rest? And she didn't do a 
 thing but make good, either. I hadn't seen her since 
 she quit the building ; but I'd heard how she was doin' 
 fine, and here the other day I gets a card sayin' she'd 
 be pleased to have my company on a Wednesday 
 night at half after eight, givin' an address on Fifth 
 avenue. 
 
 " Corny must be carvin' the cantaloup," thinks I, 
 and then forgets all about it until Sadie holds me up 
 and wants to know if I'm goin'. 
 
 " Nix," says I. " Them art studio stunts is over 
 my head." 
 
 ."Oh, pshaw!" says Sadie. "How long since you 
 have been afraid of Miss Belter? Didn't you and I 
 help her to get her start? She'll feel real badly if 
 you don't come." 
 
 " She'll get over that," says I. 
 
 " But Mrs. Pell and I will have to go alone if you 
 don't come with us," says she. " Mr. Pell is out of 
 town, and Pinckney is too busy with those twins and 
 that Western girl of his. You've got to come, Shorty." 
 
 "That settles it," says I. "Why didn't you say 
 so first off?" 
 
 So that was what I was doin' at quarter of eight 
 that night, in my open face vest and dinky little 
 
 266
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 tuxedo, hustlin' along 42d-st, wonderin' if the folks 
 took me for a head waiter late to his job. You see, 
 after I gets all ragged out I finds I've left my patent 
 leathers at the Studio. Swifty has said he was goin' 
 to take the night off too, so I'm some surprised to see 
 the front office all lit up like there was a ball goin' on 
 up there. I takes the steps three at a time, expectin' to 
 find a couple of yeggs movin' out the safe ; but when 
 I throws the door open what should I see, planted in 
 front of the mirror, but Swifty Joe. 
 
 Not that I was sure it was him till I'd had a second 
 look. It was Swifty's face, and Swifty's hair, but the 
 costume was a philopena. It would have tickled a 
 song and dance artist to death. Anywhere off'n the 
 variety stage, unless it was at a Fourth Ward chowder 
 party, it would have drawn a crowd. Perhaps you 
 can throw up a view of a pin-head check in brown and 
 white, blocked off into four-inch squares with red and 
 green lines; a double breasted coat with scalloped 
 cuffs on the sleeves, and silk faced lapels ; a pink and 
 white shirt striped like an awnin'; a spotted butterfly 
 tie; yellow shoes in the latest oleomargarin tint; and 
 a caffy-o-lay bean pot derby with a half-inch brim to 
 finish off the picture. It was a sizzler, all right. 
 
 For a minute I stands there with my mouth open 
 and my eyes bugged, takin' in the details. If I could, 
 I would have skipped without sayin' a word, for I 
 
 267
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 see I'd butted in on somethin' that was sacred and 
 secret. But Swifty's heard me come in, and he's turned 
 around waitin' for me to give a verdict. Not wantin' 
 to hurt his feelin's, I has to go careful. 
 
 "Swifty," says I, "is that you?" 
 
 He only grins kind of foolish, sticks his chin out, 
 and saws his neck against his high collar, like a cow 
 usin' a scratchin' post. 
 
 "Blamed if I didn't take you for Henry Dixey, 
 first shot," says I, walkin' around and gettin' a new 
 angle. " Gee ! but that's a swell outfit ! " 
 
 "Think so? " says he. " Will it make 'em sit up? " 
 
 " Will it! " says I. " Why, you'll have 'em on their 
 toes." 
 
 I didn't know how far I could go on that line with- 
 out givin' him a grouch ; but he seems to like it, so 
 I tears off some more of the same. 
 
 " Swifty," says I, " you've got a bunch of tiger lilies 
 lookin' like a faded tea rose. You've got a get-up 
 there that would win out at a cakewalk, and if you'll 
 take it over to Third-ave. Sunday afternoon you'll be 
 the best bet on the board." 
 
 "Honest?" says he, grinnin' way back to his ears. 
 " I was after somethin' a little fancy, I'll own up." 
 
 " Well, you got it," says I. " Where'd you have it 
 built?" 
 
 " Over the bridge," says he. 
 268
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 Say, it's a wonder some of them South Brooklyn 
 cloth carpenters don't get the blind staggers, turnin' 
 out clothes like that ; ain't it ? 
 
 " Must be some special occasion ? " says I. 
 
 "D'jer think I'd be blowin' myself like this if it 
 wa'n't? " says he. "You bet, it's extra special." 
 
 " With a skirt in the background ? " says I. 
 
 " Uh-huh," says he, springin* another grin. 
 
 " Naughty, naughty ! " says I. 
 
 " Ahr, say," says he, tryin' to look peevish, " you 
 oughter know better'n that! You never heard of 
 me chasin' the Lizzies yet, did you? This is a real 
 lady, nice and classy, see ? " 
 
 " Some one on Fifth-ave. ? " says I, unwindin* a 
 little string. But he whirls round like I'd jabbed him 
 with a pin. 
 
 " Who tipped you off to that? " says he. 
 
 " Guessed it by the clothes," says I. 
 
 That simmers him down, and I could see he wanted 
 to be confidential the worst way. He wouldn't let go 
 of her name; but I gathers it's some one he's known 
 for quite a spell, and that she's sent him a special 
 invite for this evenin'. 
 
 "Asks me to call around, see?" says he. "Now, I 
 put it up to you, Shorty, don't that look like I got 
 some standin' with her? " 
 
 " She must think pretty well of you, that's a fact," 
 269
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 says I, " and I judge that you're willin* to be her 
 honey boy. Ain't got the ring in your vest pocket, 
 have you ? " 
 
 " Maybe that ain't so much of a joke as you think," 
 says he, settin' the bean pod lid a little more on one 
 side. 
 
 " Z-z-z-ipp ! " says I. " That's goin' some ! Well, 
 well, but you are a cute one, Swifty. Why, I never 
 suspicioned such a thing. Luck to you, my lad, luck 
 to you ! " and I pats him on the back. " I don't know 
 what chances you had before ; but in that rig you can't 
 lose." 
 
 " I guess it helps," says he, twistin' his neck to get 
 a back view. 
 
 He was puttin' on the last touches when I left. 
 Course, I was some stunned, specially by the Fifth- 
 ave. part of it. But then, it's a long street, and it's 
 gettin' so now that all kinds lives on it. 
 
 I was a little behind sched. when I gets to Sherry's, 
 where I was to pick up Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell; 
 but at that it was ten or fifteen minutes before they 
 gets the tourin' car called up and we're all tucked 
 away inside. It don't take us long to cover the dis- 
 tance, though, and at twenty to nine we hauls up at 
 Miss Belter's number. I was just goin' to pile out 
 when I gets a glimpse of a pair of bright yellow shoes 
 carryin' a human checker board. 
 
 270
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 " S-s-s-sh ! " says I to the ladies. " Wait up a 
 second till we see where he goes." 
 
 "Why, who is it?" says Sadie. 
 
 " Swifty Joe," says I. " You might not think it 
 from the rainbow uniform, but it's him. That's the 
 way he dresses the part when he starts out to kneel 
 to his lady love." 
 
 "Really!" says Mrs. Pell. "Is he going to do 
 that?" 
 
 " Got it straight from him," says I. " There 1 he's 
 worked his courage up. Now he takes the plunge." 
 
 " Why ! " says Sadie, " that is Miss Belter's number 
 he's going into." 
 
 "She don't live on all five floors, does she?" 
 says I. 
 
 " No ; but it's odd, just the same," says she. 
 
 I thought so myself ; so I gives 'em the whole story 
 of how I come to know about what he was up to. 
 By that time he was climbing the stairs, and as soon 
 as we finds the right door I forgets all about Swifty 
 in sizin' up Cornelia Ann. 
 
 Say, what a difference a little of the right kind of 
 dry goods will make in a girl, won't it? The last I 
 saw of Cornie she was wearin' a skirt that sagged in 
 the back, a punky lid that might have come off the 
 top of an ash can, and shoes that had run over at 
 the heel. 
 
 271
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 But prosperity had sure blown her way, and she'd 
 bought a wardrobe to suit the times. Not that she'd 
 gone and loaded herself down like she was a window 
 display. It was just a cucumber green sort of cheese 
 cloth that floated around her, and there wa'n't a frill 
 on it except some silvery braid where the square hole 
 had been chopped out to let her head and part of her 
 shoulders through. But at that it didn't need any 
 Paris tag. 
 
 And say, I'd always had an idea that Cornelia Ann 
 was rated about third row back. Seein' the way she 
 showed up there, though, with all that cinnamon col- 
 oured hair of hers piled on top of her head, and her big 
 eyes glistenin', I had to revise the frame up. It didn't 
 take me long to find out she'd shook the shrinkin' 
 violet game, too. She steps up and gives us the glad 
 hand and the gurgly jolly just as if she'd been doin' 
 it all her life. 
 
 It wa'n't any cheap hang-out that Cornie has tacked 
 her name plate on, either. There was expensive rugs 
 on the floor, and brass lamps hangin' from the ceilin', 
 and pieces of tin armor hung around on the walls, 
 with nary a sign of an oil stove or a foldin' bed. 
 
 A lot of folks was already on the ground. They 
 was swells too, and they was floatin' around so thick 
 that it was two or three minutes before I gets a view 
 of what was sittin' under the big yellow sik lamp 
 
 272
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 shade in the corner. Say, who do you guess ? Swifty 
 Joe ! Honest, for a minute I thought I must be havin' 
 a nerve spasm and seein' things that wa'n't so. But 
 it was him, all right; big as life, and lookin' as 
 prominent as a soap ad. on the back cover of a maga- 
 zine. 
 
 There was plenty of shady places in the room that 
 he might have picked, but he has hunted out the bright 
 spot. He's sittin' on one of these funny cross legged 
 Roman stools, with his toes turned in, and them grid- 
 iron pants pulled up to show about five inches of 
 MacGregor plaid socks. And he has a satisfied look 
 on his face that I couldn't account for no way. 
 
 Course, I thinks right off that he's broke into the 
 wrong ranch and is waitin' for some one to come and 
 show him the way out. And then, all of a sudden, I 
 begins to remember things. You know, it was Swifty 
 that Cornelia Ann used to get to pose for her when 
 she had the top floor back in our building. She made 
 an embossed clay picture of him that Joe used to gaze 
 at by the hour. And once he showed me her photo 
 that she'd given him. Then there was the special 
 invite he'd been tellin' me about. Not bein' used to 
 gettin' such things, he'd mistook that card to her studio 
 openin' as a sort of private billy ducks, and he'd built 
 up a dream about him and her havin' a hand-holdin' 
 session all to themselves. 
 
 273
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Great cats ! " thinks I. " Can it be Cornelia Ann 
 he's gone on ? " 
 
 Well, all you had to do to get the answer was to 
 watch Swifty follow her around with his eyes. You'd 
 thought, findin' himself in a bunch of top-notchers like 
 that, and rigged out the way he was, he'd been feelin' 
 like a green strawb'ry in the bottom of the basket. 
 But nothin' of that kind had leaked through his thick 
 skull. Cornie was there, and he was there, dressed 
 accordin' to his own designs, and he was contented 
 and happy as a turtle on a log, believin' the rest of 
 us had only butted in. 
 
 I was feelin' all cut up over his break, and tryin' 
 to guess how Cornelia was standin' it, when she floats 
 up to me and says: 
 
 " Wasn't it sweet of Mr. Gallagher to come ? Have 
 you seen him?" 
 
 " Seen him ! " says I. " You don't notice any band- 
 age over my eyes, do you ? Notice the get up. Why, 
 he looks like a section of a billboard." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind his clothes a bit," says she. " I 
 think he's real picturesque. Besides, I haven't forgotten 
 that he used to pose for me when hiring models meant 
 going without meals. I wish you would see that he 
 doesn't get lonesome before I have a chance to speak 
 to him again." 
 
 274
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 " He don't look like he needed any chirkin' up," 
 says I ; " but I'll go give him the howdy." 
 
 So I trots over to the yellow shade and ranges my- 
 self up in front of him. " You might's well own up, 
 Swifty," says I. " Is Cornie the one ? " 
 
 " Uh-huh," says he. 
 
 " Told her about it yet? " says I. 
 
 "Ahr, chee ! " says he. " Give a guy a chance." 
 
 " Sure," says I. " But go slow, Joey, go slow." 
 
 I don't know how it happened, for all I told about 
 it was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell; but it wa'n't long 
 before everyone in the joint was next to Swifty, and 
 was pipin' him off. They all has to be introduced 
 and make a try at gettin' him to talk. For awhile 
 he has the time of his life. Mostly he just grins; but 
 now and then he throws in an "Ahr, chee ! " that 
 knocks 'em silly. 
 
 The only one that don't fall for what's up is Cor- 
 nelia Ann. She gets him to help her pass out the 
 teacups and the cake, and tells everyone about how 
 Swifty helped her out on the model business when 
 she was livin' on pickled pigs' feet and crackers. 
 Fin'lly folks begins to dig out their wraps and come 
 up to tell her how they'd had a bully time. But Joe 
 never makes a move. 
 
 Sadie and Mrs. Pell wa'n't in any hurry, either, 
 
 275
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 and the first thing I knows there's only the five of 
 us left I see Sadie lookin' from Joe to Cornie, and 
 then passin' Mrs. Pell the smile. Cornelia Ann sees 
 it too, and she has a synopsis of the precedin' chap- 
 ters all in a minute. But she don't get flustered a bit. 
 She sails over to the coat room, gets Swifty's lid, 
 and comes luggin' it out. 
 
 " I'm awfully glad you came, Mr. Gallagher," says 
 she, handin' out the bean pot, "and I hope to see 
 you again when I have another reception next year." 
 
 " Eh ? " says Swifty, like he was wakin' up from 
 a dream. " Next year ! Why, I thought that " 
 
 " Yes, but you shouldn't," says she. " Good night." 
 
 Then he sees the hat, and a light breaks. He grabs 
 the lid and makes a dash for the door. 
 
 " Isn't he odd ? " says Cornelia. 
 
 Well say, I didn't know whether I'd get word that 
 night that Swifty had jumped off the bridge, or had 
 gone back to the fusel oil. He didn't do either one, 
 though; but when he shows up at the Studio next 
 mornin' he was wearin' his old clothes, and his face 
 looks like he was foreman of a lemon grove. 
 
 "Ah, brace up, Swifty," says I. " There's others." 
 
 He just shakes his head and sighs, and goes off into 
 a corner as if he wanted to die slow and lingerin'. 
 
 Then Saturday afternoon, when it turns off so 
 warm and we begins the noon shut down, I thinks I'll 
 
 276
 
 WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME 
 
 take a little run down to Coney and hear the frank- 
 furters bark. I was watchin' 'em load the boys and 
 girls into a roller coaster, when along comes a car 
 that has something familiar in it. Here's Swifty, 
 wearin' his brass band suit, a cigar stickin' out of 
 one corner of his mouth, and an arm around a fluffy 
 haired Flossie girl that was chewin' gum and wearin' 
 a fruit basket hat. They was lookin' happy. 
 
 " Say, Swifty," I sings out, " don't forget about 
 Cornie." 
 
 "Ahr, chee ! " says he, and off they goes down the 
 chute for another ten-cent ride. 
 
 But say, I'm glad all them South Brooklyn art 
 clothes ain't goin' to be wasted. 
 
 277
 
 XVIII 
 PLAYING WILBUR JO SHOW 
 
 IT'S all right. You can put the Teddy sign on 
 anything you read in the papers about matrimony's 
 bein' a lost art, and collectin' affinities bein' the latest 
 fad ; for the plain, straight, old, love-honour-and-cher- 
 ish business is still in the ring. I have Pinckney's 
 word for it, and Pinckney ought to know. Oh, yes, 
 he's an authority now. Sure, it was Miss Gerty, the 
 twin tamer. And say, what do you suppose they did 
 with that gift pair of terrors, Jack and Jill, while 
 they was makin' the weddin' tour? Took 'em along. 
 Honest, they travels for ten weeks with two kids, five 
 trunks, and a couple of maids. 
 
 " You don't look like no honeymoon couple," says 
 I, when I meets 'em in Jersey City. " I'd take you 
 for an explorin' party." 
 
 " We are," says Pinckney, grinnin'. " We've been 
 explorin' the western part of the United States. We 
 have discovered Colorado Springs, the Yosemite, and 
 a lot more very interesting places, all over again." 
 
 " You'll be makin' a new map, I expect," says I. 
 
 " It would be new to most New Yorkers," says he. 
 278
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 And I've been tryin' ever since to figure out whether 
 or no that's a knock. Now and then I has a sus- 
 picion that Pinckney's acquired some new bug since 
 he's been out through the alfalfa belt; but maybe his 
 idea of the West's bein' such a great place only comes 
 from the fact that Gerty was produced there. Perhaps 
 it's all he says too ; but I notice he seems mighty glad 
 to get back to Main-st, N. Y. You'd thought so if 
 you'd seen the way he trails me around over town the 
 first day after he lands. We was on the go from noon 
 until one A. M., and his cab bill must have split a 
 twenty up fine. 
 
 What tickles me, though, is that he's the same old 
 Pinckney, only more so. Bein' married don't seem 
 to weigh no heavier on his mind than joinin' another 
 club. So, instead of me losin' track of him altogether, 
 he shows up here at the Studio oftener than before. 
 And that's how it was he happens to be on hand when 
 this overgrown party from the ham orchard blows 
 in. 
 
 Just at the minute, though, Pinckney was back in 
 the dressin' room, climbin' into his frock coat after 
 our little half-hour session on the mat; so Swifty Joe 
 and me was the reception committee. 
 
 As the door opens I looks up to see about seven 
 foot of cinnamon brown plaid cloth, a little the 
 homeliest stuff I ever see used for clothes, a red and 
 
 279
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 green necktie, a face the colour of a ripe tomato, and 
 one of these buckskin tinted felt hats on top of that. 
 Measurin' from the peak of the Stetson to the heels 
 of his No. 14 Cinderellas, he must have been some 
 under ninety inches, but not much. And he has all 
 the grace of a water tower. Whoever tried to build 
 that suit for him must have got desperate and cut it 
 out with their eyes shut; for it fit him only in spots, 
 and them not very near together. But what can you 
 do with a pair of knock knees and shoulders that slope 
 like a hip roof? 
 
 Not expectin' any freaks that day, and bein' too 
 stunned to make any crack on our own hook, me and 
 Swifty does the silent gawp, and waits to see if it can 
 talk. For a minute he looks like he can't. He just 
 stands here with his mouth half open, grinnin' kind 
 of sheepish and good natured, as if we could tell what 
 he wanted just by his looks. Fin'lly I breaks the 
 spell. 
 
 " Hello, Sport," says I. " If you see any dust on 
 top of that chandelier, don't mention it." 
 
 He don't make any reply to that, just grins a little 
 wider; so I gives him a new deal. 
 
 "You'll find Huber's museum down on i4tH-st.," 
 says I. " Or have you got a Bowery engage- 
 ment?" 
 
 This seems to twist him up still more; but it pulls 
 280
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 the cork. "Excuse me, friends," says he; "but I'm 
 tryin' to round up an eatin' house that used to be 
 hereabouts." 
 
 " Eatin' house ? " says I. " If you mean the fried 
 egg parlour that was on the ground floor, that went out 
 of business months ago. But there's lots more just 
 as good around on Sixth-ave., and some that carry 
 stock enough to fill you up part way, I guess." 
 
 " I wa'n't lookin' to grub up just yet," says he. " I 
 was huntin' for for some one that worked there." 
 
 And say, you wouldn't have thought anyone with 
 a natural sunset colour like that could lay on a blush. 
 But he does, and it's like throwin' the red calcium on 
 a brick wall. 
 
 "Oh, tush, tush!" says I. "You 'don't mean to 
 tell me a man of your size is trailin' some Lizzie 
 Maud?" 
 
 He cants his head on one side, pulls out a blue silk 
 handkerchief, and begins to wind it around his fore 
 finger, like a bashful kid that's been caught passin' 
 a note in school. 
 
 "Her her name's Zylphina," says he, "Zylphina 
 Beck." 
 
 " Gee ! " says I. " Sounds like a new kind of music 
 box. No relation, I hope?" 
 
 " Not yet," says he, swingin' his shoulders ; " but 
 we've swapped rings." 
 
 281
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 "Of all the cut-ups!" says I. "And just what 
 part of the plowed fields do you and Zylphina hail 
 from?" 
 
 "Why, I'm from Hoxie," says he, as though that 
 told the whole story. 
 
 " Do tell ! " says I. " Is that a flag station or just 
 a four corners ? Somewhere in Ohio, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Sheridan County, Kansas," says he. 
 
 " Well, well ! " says I. " Now I can account for 
 your size. Have to grow tall out there, don't you, 
 so's not to get lost in the wheat patch ? " 
 
 Say, for a josh consumer, he was the easiest ever. 
 All he does is stand there and grin, like he was the 
 weak end of a variety team. But it seems a shame 
 to crowd a willin' performer; so I was just tellin' 
 him he'd better go out and hunt up a city directory 
 in some drug store, when Pinckney shows up, lookin' 
 interested. 
 
 " There ! " says I. " Here's a man now that'll lead 
 you straight to Zylphina in no time. Pinckney, let 
 me make you acquainted with Mister er " 
 
 " Cobb," says the Hoxie gent, " Wilbur Cobb." 
 
 " From out West," I puts in, givin' Pinckney the 
 nudge. " He's yours." 
 
 It ain't often I has a chance to unload anything 
 like that on Pinckney, so I rubs it in. The thoughts 
 of him towin' around town a human extension like 
 282
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 this Wilbur strikes Swifty Joe so hard that he most 
 has a chokin' fit 
 
 But you never know what turn Pinckney's goin' 
 to give to a jolly. He don't even crack a smile, but 
 reaches up and hands Mr. Cobb the cordial shake, 
 just as though he'd been a pattern sized gent dressed 
 accordin' to the new fall styles. 
 
 "Ah ! " says Pinckney. " I'm very glad to meet 
 anyone from the West. What State, Mr. Cobb? " 
 
 And inside of two minutes he's gettin' all the details 
 of this Zylphina hunt, from the ground up, includin' 
 an outline of Wilbur's past life. 
 
 Seems that Wilbur'd got his first start in Maine; 
 but 'way back before he could remember much his 
 folks had moved to Kansas on a homestead. Then, 
 when Wilbur tossled out, he takes up a quarter sec- 
 tion near Hoxie, and goes to corn farmin' for himself, 
 raisin' a few hogs as a side line. Barrin' bein' caught 
 in a cyclone or two, and gettin' elected junior kazook 
 of the Sheridan County Grange, nothin' much hap- 
 pened to Wilbur, until one day he took a car ride as 
 far west as Colby Junction. 
 
 That's where he meets up with Zylphina. She was 
 jugglin' stop over rations at the railroad lunch counter. 
 Men must have been mighty scarce around the junc- 
 tion, or else she wants the most she can get for the 
 money; for, as she passes Wilbur a hunk of petrified 
 
 283
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 pie and draws him one muddy, with two lumps on the 
 saucer, she throws in a smile that makes him feel like 
 he'd stepped on a live third rail. 
 
 Accordin' to his tell, he must have hung around 
 that counter all day, eatin' through the pie list from 
 top to bottom and back again, until it's a wonder 
 his system ever got over the shock. But Zylphina 
 keeps tollin' him on with googoo eyes and giggles, 
 sayin' how it does her good to see a man with a nice, 
 hearty appetite, and before it come time for him to 
 take the night train back they'd got real well ac- 
 quainted. He finds out her first name, and how she's 
 been a whole orphan since she was goin' on ten. 
 
 After that Wilbur makes the trip to Colby Junction 
 reg'lar every Sunday, and they'd got to the point of 
 talkin' about settin' the day when she was to become 
 Mrs. Cobb, when Zylphina gets word that an aunt of 
 hers that kept a boardin' house in Fall River, Massa- 
 chusetts, wants her to come on East right away. 
 Aunty has some kind of heart trouble that may finish 
 her any minute, and, as Zylphina was the nearest re- 
 lation she had, there was a show of her bein' heiress 
 to the whole joint. 
 
 ( Course, Zylphina thinks she ought to tear herself 
 loose from the pie counter; but before she quits the 
 junction her and Wilbur takes one last buggy ride, 
 with the reins wound around the whip socket most 
 
 884
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 of the way. She weeps on Wilbur's shirt front, and 
 says no matter how far off she is, or how long she 
 has to wait for him to come, she'll always be his'n 
 on demand. And Wilbur says that just as soon as 
 he can make the corn and hog vineyard hump itself 
 a little more, he'll come. 
 
 So Zylphina packs a shoe box full of fried chicken, 
 blows two months' wages into a yard of yellow rail- 
 road ticket, and starts toward the cotton mills. It's 
 a couple of months before Wilbur gets any letter, and 
 then it turns out to be a hard luck tale, at that. 
 Zylphina has found out what a lime tastes like. She's 
 discovered that the Fall River aunt hasn't anything 
 more the matter with her heart than the average 
 landlady, and that what she's fell heiress to is only a 
 chance to work eighteen hours a day for her board. 
 So she's disinherited herself and is about to make a 
 bold jump for New York, which she liked the looks 
 of as she came through, and she'll write more later on. 
 
 It was later about six months. Zylphina says she's 
 happy, and hopes Wilbur is the same. She's got a . 
 real elegant job as cashier in a high-toned, twenty- 
 five cent, reg'lar-meal establishment, and all in the 
 world she has to do is to sit behind a wire screen and 
 make change. It's different from wearin' an apron, 
 and the gents what takes their food there steady treats 
 her like a perfect lady. New York is a big place; 
 
 285
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 but she's getting so she knows her way around quite 
 well now, and it would seem funny to go back to a 
 little one-horse burg like Colby. 
 
 And that's all. Nothin' about her bein' Wilbur's 
 on demand, or anything of that kind. Course, it's 
 an antique old yarn; but it was all fresh to Wilbur. 
 Not bein' much of a letter writer, he keeps on feedin' 
 the hogs punctual, and hoein' the corn, and waitin' 
 for more news. But there's nothin' doin'. 
 
 " Then," says he, "I got to thinkin' and thinkin', 
 and this fall, being as how I was coming as far east 
 as Chicago on a shipper's pass, I reckons I'd better 
 keep right on here, hunt Zylphina up, and take her 
 back with me." 
 
 The way he tells it was real earnest, and at some 
 points them whey coloured eyes of his moistens up 
 good an' dewy; but he finishes strong and smilin'. 
 You wouldn't guess, though, that any corn fed ro- 
 mance like that would stir up such a blood as Pinckney ? 
 A few months back he wouldn't have listened farther'n 
 the preamble; but now he couldn't have been more 
 interested if this was a case of Romeo Astor and 
 Juliet Dupeyster. 
 
 " Shorty," says he, " can't we do something to help 
 Mr. Cobb find this young lady ? " 
 
 " Do you mean it," says I, " or are you battin' up 
 a josh?" 
 
 286
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 He means it, all right. He spiels off a lot of gush 
 about the joy of unitin' two lovin' hearts that has 
 got strayed; so I asks Wilbur if he can furnish any 
 description of Zylphina. Sure, he can. He digs up 
 a leather wallet from his inside pocket and hands 
 out a tintype of Miss Beck, one of these portraits 
 framed in pale pink paper, taken by a wagon artist 
 that had wandered out to the junction. 
 
 Judgin' by the picture, Zylphina must have been a 
 sure enough prairie-rose. She's wearin' her hair loose 
 over her shoulders, and a genuine Shy Ann hat, one 
 of those ten-inch brims with the front pinned back. 
 The pug nose and the big mouth wa'n't just after the 
 Venus model; but it's likely she looked good to Wil- 
 bur. I takes one squint and hands it back. 
 
 " Nix, never ! " says I. " I've seen lots of fairies 
 on 42d-st, but none like that. Put it back over your 
 heart, Wilbur, and try an ad. in the lost column." 
 
 But Pinckney ain't willin' to give up so easy. He 
 says how Mr. Cobb has come more'n a thousand 
 miles on this tender mission, and it's up to us to do 
 our best towards helping him along. I couldn't see 
 just where we was let into this affair of Wilbur's; 
 but as Pinckney's so set on it, I begins battin' my 
 head for a way of takin' up the trail. 
 
 And it's wonderful what sleuth work you can do 
 just by.usin' the 'phone liberal. First I calls up the 
 
 287
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 agent of the buildin', and finds that the meal fact'ry 
 has moved over to Eighth-ave. Then I gets that 
 number and brings Zylphina's old boss to the wire. 
 Sure, he remembers Miss Beck. No, she ain't with 
 him now. He thinks she took a course in manicur- 
 ing and one of the girls says she heard of her doin' 
 the hand holdin' act in an apartment hotel on West 
 35th-st. After three tries we has Zylphina herself 
 on the 'phone. 
 
 " Guess who's here," says I. 
 
 " That you, Roland ? " says she. 
 
 "Aw, pickles ! " says I. " Set the calendar back 
 a year or so, and then come again. Ever hear of 
 Wilbur, from Hoxie, Kan.? " 
 
 Whether it was a squeal or a snicker, I couldn't 
 make out ; but she was on. As I couldn't drag Wilbur 
 up to the receiver, I has to carry through the talk 
 myself, and I makes a date for him to meet her in 
 front of the hotel at six-thirty that evenin', when the 
 day shift of nail polishers goes off duty. 
 
 " Does that suit, Wilbur? " says I. 
 
 Does it? You never saw so much pure joy spread 
 over a single countenance as what he flashes up. 
 He gives me a grip I can feel yet, and the grin that 
 opens his face was one of these reg'lar ear connectors. 
 Pinckney was tickled too, and it's all I can do to 
 get him off one side where I can whisper confidential. 
 
 288
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 " Maybe it ain't struck you yet," says I, " that 
 Zylphina's likely to have changed some in her ideas 
 as to what a honey boy looks like. Now Wilbur's all 
 right in his way ; but ain't he a little rugged to spring 
 on a lady manicure that hasn't seen him for some 
 time?" 
 
 And when Pinckney comes to take a close view, 
 he agrees that Mr. Cobb is a trifle fuzzy. " But we 
 can spruce him up," says Pinckney. " There are four 
 hours to do it in." 
 
 " Four weeks would be better," says I ; " it's consid- 
 erable of a contract." 
 
 That don't bother Pinckney any. He's got nothing 
 else on hand for the afternoon, and he can't plan any 
 better sport than improvin' Wilbur's looks so Zyl- 
 phina's first impression'll be a good one. 
 
 He begins by making Wilbur peel the cinnamon 
 brown costume, drapin' him in a couple of bath robes, 
 while Swifty takes the suit out to one of these pants- 
 pressed-while you wait places. When it comes back 
 with creases in the legs, he hustles Wilbur into a cab 
 and starts for a barber shop. 
 
 Say, I don't suppose Cobb'll ever know it; but if 
 he'd been huntin' for expert help along that line, he 
 couldn't have tumbled into better hands than he did 
 when Pinckney gets interested in his case. When 
 they floats in again, along about six o'clock, I hardly 
 
 280
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 knows Wilbur for the same party. He's wearin' a 
 long black ulster that covers up most of the plaid 
 nightmare; he's shook the woolly lid for a fall block 
 derby, he's had his face scraped and powdered, and 
 hr's neck ringlets trimmed up; and he even sports a 
 pair of yellow kids and a silver headed stick. 
 
 " Gosh ! " says I. " Looks like you'd run him 
 through a finishing machine. Why, he'll have Zyl- 
 phina after him with a net." 
 
 " Yes," says Pinckney. " I fancy he'll do now." 
 
 As for Wilbur, he only looks good natured and 
 happy. Course, Pinckney wants to go along with 
 him, to see that it all turns out right; and he counts 
 me in too, so off we starts. I was a little curious to 
 get a glimpse of Zylphina myself, and watch how 
 stunned she'd be. For we has it all framed up how 
 she'll act. Havin' seen the tintype, I can't get it out 
 of my head that she's still wearin' her hair loose and 
 looking like M'liss in the first act. 
 
 "Hope she'll be on time," says I, as we turns the 
 corner. 
 
 There was more or less folks goin' and comin' 
 from the ladies' entrance; but no girl like the one 
 we was lookin' for. So we fetches up in a bunch 
 opposite the door and prepares to wait. We hadn't 
 stood there a minute, before there comes a squeal from 
 behind, and some one says: 
 290
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 " Why, Wilbur Cobb ! Is that you ? " 
 
 And what do you guess shows up? There at the 
 curb is a big, open tourin' car, one of the opulent, 
 shiny kind, with a slick looking shuffer in front, and, 
 standin' up in the tonneau, a tart little lady wearin' 
 Broadway clothes that was right up to the minute, 
 hair done into breakfast rolls behind, and a long pink 
 veil streamin' down her back. Only by the pug nose 
 and the mouth could I guess that it might be Zylphina. 
 And it was. 
 
 There wa'n't any gettin' away from the fact that 
 she was a little jarred at seein' Wilbur lookin' so 
 cute; but that was nothin' to the jolt she handed 
 us. Mr. Cobb, he just opens his mouth and gazes 
 at her like she was some sort of an exhibit. And 
 Pinckney, who'd been expectin' something in a dollar- 
 thirty-nine shirtwaist and a sagged skirt, is down and 
 out. It didn't take me more'n a minute to see that 
 if Zylphina has got to the stage where she wears 
 pony jackets and rides in expensive bubbles, our little 
 pie counter romance is headed for the ash can. 
 
 " Stung in both eyes ! " says I under my breath, 
 and falls back. 
 
 " Well, well ! " says Zylphina, holdin' out three 
 fingers. " When did you hit Broadway, Wilbur ? " 
 
 It was all up to Cobb then. He drifts up to the 
 tonneau and gathers in the fingers dazed like, as 
 
 291
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 if he was walkin' in his sleep ; but he gets out some- 
 thin' about bein' mighty glad to see her again. 
 
 Zylphina sizes him up kind of curious, and smiles. 
 " You must let me introduce you to my friend," says 
 she. " Roland, this is Mr. Cobb, from Kansas." 
 
 Mr. Shuffer grins too, as he swaps grips with 
 Wilbur. It was a great joke. 
 
 " He's awfully nice to me, Roland is," says Zyl- 
 phina, with a giggle. "And ain't this a swell car, 
 though? Roland takes me to my boardin' house in it 
 'most every night. But how are the corn and hogs 
 doin', Wilbur?" 
 
 Say, there was a topic Wilbur was up on. He 
 throws her a grateful grin and proceeds to unlimber 
 his conversation works. He tells Zylphina how many 
 acres he put into corn last spring, how much it shucked 
 to the acre, and how many head of hogs he has just 
 sent to the ham and lard lab'ratory. That brand of 
 talk sounds kind of foolish there under the arc lights ; 
 but Zylphina pricks up her ears. 
 
 " Ten carloads of hogs ! " says she. " Is that a kid, 
 or are you just havin' a dream? " 
 
 " I cal'late it'll be twenty next fall," says he, fishin' 
 for somethin' in his pocket. " Here's the packing 
 house receipts for the ten, anyway." 
 
 " Let's see," says she, and by the way she skins 
 her eye over them documents you could tell that Zyl- 
 292
 
 PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW 
 
 phina'd seen the like before. Also she was some- 
 thin' of a ready reckoner. 
 
 " Oh, Wilbur ! " says she, makin' a flyin' leap and 
 landin' with her arms around his neck. " I'm yours, 
 Wilbur, I'm yours ! " 
 
 And Wilbur, he gathers her in. 
 
 " Roland," says I, steppin' up to the shuffer, " you 
 can crank up. Hoxie's won out in the tenth." 
 
 ^293
 
 XIX 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 I WAS expectin' to put in a couple of days doin' 
 the sad and lonely, Sadie havin' made a date to run 
 out to Rocky wold for the week end ; but Friday night 
 when I'm let off at the seventh floor of the Perzazzer 
 and say, no matter how many flights up home is, 
 there's no place like it who should I see but Sadie, 
 just takin' off her hat. Across by the window is one 
 of the chamber maids, leanin' up against the casing 
 and snifflin' into the expensive draperies. 
 
 " Well, well ! " says I. " Is this a rehearsal for a 
 Hank Ibsen sprinkler scene, or is it a case of missin' 
 jewels?" 
 
 " It's nothing of the sort, Shorty," says Sadie, giv- 
 ing me the shut-off signal. Then she turns to the 
 girl with a " There, there, Nora ! Everything will 
 be all right. And I will be around Sunday afternoon. 
 Run along now, and don't worry." With that she 
 leads Nora out to the door and sends her away with 
 a shoulder pat. 
 
 " Who's been getting friendly with the help now ; 
 eh, Sadie ? " says I. "And what's the woe about ? " 
 
 294
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 Course she begins at the wrong end, and throws in 
 a lot of details that only lumbers up the record; but 
 after she's been talkin' for half an hour and Sadie 
 can separate herself from a lot of language in that 
 time I gets a good workin' outline of this domestic 
 tragedy that has left damp spots on our window 
 curtains. 
 
 It ain't near so harrowin', though, as you might 
 suspect. Seems that Nora has the weepin' habit. 
 That's how Sadie come to remember havin' seen her 
 before. Also it counts for Nora's shiftin' so often. 
 Folks like Mrs. Purdy Pell and the Twombley-Cranes 
 can't keep a girl around that's liable to weep into 
 the soup or on the card tray. If it wa'n't for that, 
 Nora'd been all right; for she's a neat lookin' girl, 
 handy and willin', one of these slim, rosy cheeked, 
 black haired, North of Ireland kind, that can get 
 big wages, when they have the sense, which ain't 
 often. 
 
 Well, she'd changed around until she lands here 
 in the fresh linen department, workin' reg'lar twelve- 
 hour shifts, one afternoon off a week, and a four-by- 
 six room up under the copper roof, with all the chance 
 in the world to weep and no one to pay any attention 
 to her, until Sadie catches her at it. Trust Sadie ! 
 
 When she finds Nora leakin' her troubles out over 
 an armful of clean towels, she drags her in here and 
 
 295
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 asks for the awful facts. Then comes the fam'ly his- 
 tory of the Dillons, beginnin' on the old rent at Bally- 
 shannon and endin' in a five-room flat on Double 
 Fifth-ave. When she conies to mentionin' Larry Dil- 
 lon, I pricks up my ears. 
 
 " What ! Not the old flannel mouth that's chopped 
 tickets at the 33d-st. station ever since the L was 
 built?" says I. 
 
 " He's been discharged," says Sadie. " Did you 
 know him ? " 
 
 Did I know Larry? Could anyone live in this burg 
 as long as I have, without gettin' acquainted with that 
 Old Country face, or learnin' by heart his " Ha-a-a-ar- 
 lem thr-r-rain ! Ha-a-a-ar-lem ! " ? There's other old 
 timers that has the brogue, but never a one could 
 touch Larry. A purple faced, grumpy old pirate, with 
 a disposition as cheerful as a man waitin' his turn at 
 the dentist's, and a heart as big as a ham, he couldn't 
 speak a civil word if he tried ; but he was always ready 
 to hand over half his lunch to any whimperin' newsy 
 that came along, and he's lent out more nickels that 
 he'll ever see again. 
 
 But about the other Dillons, I got my first news 
 from Sadie. There was four of 'em, besides Nora. 
 One was Tom, who had a fine steady job, drivin' a 
 coal cart for the Consolidated. A credit to the family, 
 Tom was ; havln' a wife and six kids of his own, be- 
 296
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 sides votin' the straight Tammany ticket since he was 
 nineteen. Next there was Maggie, whose man was 
 on the stage, shiftin' scenery. Then there was Kate, 
 the lady sales person, who lived with the old folks. 
 And last there was Aloysius, the stray ; and wherever 
 he was, Heaven help him ! for he was no use what- 
 ever. 
 
 " I take it that 'Loyshy's the brunette Southdown 
 of the Dillon flock," says I. " What particular brand 
 of cussedness does he make a specialty of? " 
 
 Sadie says that Nora hadn't gone much into par- 
 ticulars, except that when last heard of he'd joined 
 the Salvationists, which had left old Larry frothin' at 
 the mouth. He'd threatened to break Aloysius into 
 two pieces on sight, and he'd put the ban on speakin' 
 his name around the house. 
 
 "Followin' the tambourine!" says I. "That's a 
 queer stunt for a Dillon. The weeps was for him, 
 then?" 
 
 They wa'n't. 'Loyshy's disappearin' act had been 
 done two or three years back. The tears was all on 
 account of the fortieth weddin' anniversary of the 
 Dillons, fallin' as it did just a week after Larry had 
 the spell of rheumatism which got him laid off for 
 good. It's a nice little way the Inter-Met, people has 
 of rewardin' the old vets. An inspector finds Larry 
 with his hand tied to the chopper handle, takes a look 
 
 297
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 at his cramped up fingers, puts down his number, and 
 next payday he gets the sack. 
 
 " So you've found another candidate for your pri- 
 vate pension list, have you, Sadie ? " says I. 
 
 But that's another wrong guess. The Dillons ain't 
 takin' charity, not from anyone. It's the Dillon sisters 
 to the rescue. They rustles around until they find 
 Larry a job as night watch, in where it's warm. Then 
 they all chips in for the new Tenth-ave flat. Maggie 
 brings her man and the two kids, the lady Kate sends 
 around her trunks with the furniture, and Nora prom- 
 ises to give up half of her twenty to keep things going. 
 
 And then the Bradys, who lives opposite, has to 
 spring their blow out. They'd been married forty 
 years too; but just because one of their boys was in 
 the Fire Department, and Lizzie Brady was workin' 
 in a Sixth-ave. hair dressin' parlour, they'd no call to 
 flash such a bluff, frosted cake from the baker, with 
 the date done in pink candy, candles burnin' on the 
 mantelpiece, a whole case of St. Louis on the front fire 
 escape, and the district boss drivin' around in one of 
 Connely's funeral hacks. Who was the Bradys, that 
 they should have weddin' celebrations when the Dil- 
 lons had none? 
 
 Kate, the lady sales person, Handed out that conun- 
 drum. She supplies the answer too. She allows that 
 what a Brady can make a try at, a Dillon can do like 
 298
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 it ought to be done. So they've no sooner had the gas 
 and water turned on at the new flat than she draws up 
 plans for a weddin' anniversary that'll make the Brady 
 performance look like a pan of beans beside a standing 
 rib roast. 
 
 She knows what's what, the lady Kate does. She's 
 been to the real things, and they calls 'em " at homes " 
 in Harlem. The Dillons will be at home Sunday the 
 nineteenth, from half after four until eight, and the 
 Bradys can wag their tongues off, for all she cares. 
 It'll be in honour of the fortieth wedding anniversary 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Dillon, and all the family 
 connections, and all friends of the same, is to have 
 a bid. 
 
 " Well, that's the limit ! " says I. " Did you tell the 
 girl they'd better be layin' in groceries, instead of 
 givin' an imitation tea ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " says Sadie. " Why shouldn't they 
 enjoy themselves in their own way?" 
 
 " Eh? " says I. " Oh, I take it all back. But what 
 was the eye swabbin' for, then ? " 
 By degrees I gets the enacting clause. The arrange- 
 ments for the party was goin' on lovely, Larry was 
 havin' the buttons sewed onto the long tailed coat he 
 was married in, the scene shifter had got the loan of 
 some stage props to decorate the front room, there 
 was to be ice cream and fancy cakes and ladies' punch, 
 
 299
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 Father Kelley had promised to drop in, and all was 
 runnin' smooth, when Mother Dillon breaks loose. 
 
 And what do you guess is the matter with her ? She 
 wants her 'Loyshy. If there was to be any fam'ly con- 
 vention and weddin' celebration, why couldn't she have 
 her little Aloysius to it? She didn't care a split spud 
 how he'd behaved, or if him and his father had had 
 words ; he was her youngest b'y, and she thought more 
 of him than all the rest put together, and she wouldn't 
 have a hand in any doin's that 'Loyshy was barred 
 from comin' to. 
 
 t As Nora put it, " When the old lady speaks her 
 mind, you got to listen or go mad from her." She 
 don't talk of anything else, and when she ain't talkin' 
 she's cryin' her eyes out. Old Larry swore himself 
 out of breath, the lady Kate argued, and Maggie had 
 done her best; but there was nothin' doin'. They'd 
 got to find Aloysius and ask him to the party, or call 
 it off. 
 
 But findin' 'Loyshy wa'n't any cinch. He'd left 
 the Army long ago. He wa'n't in any of the fifteen- 
 cent lodgin' houses. The police didn't have any record 
 of him. He didn't figure in the hospital lists. The 
 nearest anyone came to locatin' him was a handbook 
 man the scene shifter knew, who said he'd heard of 
 'Loyshy hangin' around the Gravesend track summer 
 before last ; but there was no use lookin' for him there 
 
 300
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 at this time of year. It wa'n't until they'd promised 
 to advertise for Aloysius in the papers that Mother 
 Dillon quit takin' on and agreed to wear the green 
 silk she'd had made for Nora's chistenin'. 
 
 " Yes, and what then? " says I. 
 
 " Why," says Sadie, " Nora's afraid that if Aloysius 
 doesn't turn up, her mother will spoil the party with 
 another crying spell ; and she knows if he does come, 
 her father will throw him out." 
 
 " She has a happy way of lookin' at things," says 
 I. " Was it for this you cut out going to Rocky- 
 wold?" 
 
 " Of course," says Sadie. " I am to pour tea at the 
 Dillons' on Sunday afternoon. You are to come at 
 five, and bring Pinckney." 
 
 " Ah, pickles, Sadie ! " says I. " This is " 
 
 " Please, Shorty ! " says she. " I've told Nora you 
 would." 
 
 " I'll put it up to Pinckney," says I, " and if he's 
 chump enough to let himself loose in Tenth-ave. so- 
 ciety, just to help the Dillons put it over the Bradys, 
 I expect I'll be a mark too. But it's a dippy move." 
 
 Course, I mistrusted how Pinckney would take it. 
 He thinks he's got me on the rollers, and proceeds to 
 shove. He hasn't heard more'n half the tale before he 
 begins handin' me the josh about it's bein' my duty to 
 spread sunshine wherever I can. 
 
 301
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " It's calcium the Dillons want," says I. " But I 
 hadn't got to tellin' you about Aloysius." 
 
 "What's that?" says he. "Aloysius Dillon, did 
 you say ? " 
 
 " He's the one that's playin' the part of the missing 
 prod.," says I. 
 
 "What is he like?" says Pinckney, gettin' inter- 
 ested. 
 
 " Accordin' to descriptions," says I, " he's a useless 
 little runt, about four feet nothin' high and as wide 
 as a match, with the temper of a striped hornet and 
 the instincts of a yellow kyoodle. But he's his moth- 
 er's pet, just the same, and if he ain't found she 
 threatens to throw fits. Don't happen to know him, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " Why," says Pinckney, " I'm not sure but I do." 
 
 It looks like a jolly; but then again, you never can 
 tell about Pinckney. He mixes around in so many 
 sets that he's like to know 'most anybody. 
 
 " Well," says I, " if you run across Aloysius at the 
 club, tell him what's on for Sunday afternoon." 
 
 " I will," says Pinckney, lettin' out a chuckle and 
 climbin' into his cab. 
 
 I was hoping that maybe Sadie would renige before 
 the time come; but right after dinner Sunday she 
 makes up in her second best afternoon regalia, calls a 
 hansom, and starts for Tenth-ave., leavin' instructions 
 
 302
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 how I was to show up in about an hour with Pinckney, 
 and not to forget about handin' out our cards just as if 
 this was a swell affair. I finds Pinckney got up in his 
 frock coat and primrose pants, and lookin' mighty 
 pleased about something or other. 
 
 " Huh ! " says I. " You seem to take this as a 
 reg'lar cut-up act. I call it blamed nonsense, en- 
 couragin' folks like the Dillons to" 
 
 But there ain't any use arguin' with Pinckney 
 when he's feelin' that way. He only grins and looks 
 mysterious. We don't have to hunt for the number 
 of the Dillons' flat house, for there's a gang of kids 
 on the front steps and more out in the street gawpin' 
 up at the lighted windows. We makes a dive through 
 them and tackles the four flights, passin' inspection of 
 the tenants on the way up, every door bein' open. 
 
 " Who's comin' now ? " sings out a women from the 
 second floor back. 
 
 " Only a couple of Willies from the store," says a 
 gent in his shirt sleeves, givin' us the stare. 
 
 From other remarks we heard passed, it was clear 
 the Dillons had been tootin' this party as something 
 fine and classy, and that they wa'n't making good. 
 The signs of frost grows plainer as we gets nearer the 
 scene of the festivities. All the Dillon family was 
 there, right enough, from the youngest kid up. Old 
 Larry has had his face scraped till it shines like a cop- 
 
 303
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 per stewpan, and him and Mother Dillon is standin' 
 under a green paper bell hung from a hook in the ceil- 
 ing. I could spot Tom, the coal cart driver, by the 
 ring of dust under his eyelashes; and there was no 
 mistakin' lady Kate, the sales person, with the double 
 row of coronet hair rolls pinned to the top of her head. 
 Over in the corner, too, was Sadie, talkin' to Father 
 Kelley. But there wa'n't any great signs of joy. 
 
 The wEole party sizes up me and Pinckney as if 
 they was disappointed. I can't say what they was 
 lookin' for from us; but whatever it was, we didn't 
 seem to fill the bill. And just when the gloom 
 is settlin' down thickest, Mother Dillon begins to 
 sniffle. 
 
 " Now, mother," says Nora, soothin' like, " remem- 
 ber there's company." 
 
 " Ah, bad scran to the lot of yez ! " says the old lady. 
 " Where's my Aloysius ? Where is he, will ye tell me 
 that?" 
 
 " Divvul take such a woman ! " says old Larry. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " says Father Kelley. 
 
 " Will you look at the Bradys now ! " whispers Mag- 
 gie, hoarselike. 
 
 It wa'n't easy guessin' which windows in the block 
 
 was theirs, for every ledge has a pillow on it, and a 
 
 couple of pairs of elbows on every pillow, but I took 
 
 it that the Bradys was where they was grinnin' widest. 
 
 304
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 You could tell, though, that the merry laugh was 
 bein' passed up and down, and it was on the Dil- 
 lons. 
 
 And then, as I was tryin' to give Sadie the get-away 
 sign, we hears a deep honk outside, and I sees the 
 folks across the way stretchin' their necks out. In a 
 minute there's a scamperin' in the halls like a stam- 
 pede at a synagogue, and we hears the " Ah-h-hs ! " 
 coming up from below. We all makes a rush for the 
 front and rubbers out to see what's happenin'. By 
 climbin' on a chair and peekin' over the top of the lady 
 Kate's hair puffs, I catches a glimpse of a big yellow 
 and black bodied car, with a footman in a bearskin 
 coat holdin' open the door. 
 
 ' Oh-o-o-oh ! look what's here ? " squeals eight little 
 Dillons in chorus. 
 
 You couldn't blame 'em, either, for the hat that was 
 bein' squeezed out through the door of the car was 
 one of these Broadway thrillers, four feet across, and 
 covered with as many green ostrich feathers as you 
 could carry in a clothes basket. What was under the 
 feather lid we couldn't see. Followin' it out of the 
 machine comes somethin' cute in a butter colored over- 
 coat and a brown derby. In a minute more we gets 
 the report that the procession is headed up the stairs, 
 and by the time we've grouped ourselves around the 
 room with our mouths open, in they floats. 
 
 305
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 In the lead, wearin' the oleo coat with yellow silk 
 facin's, was a squizzled up little squirt with rat eyes 
 and a mean little face about as thick as a slice of toast, 
 and the same colour. His clothes, though, is a pome 
 in browns and yellows, from the champagne tinted 
 No. 3 shoes to the tobacco coloured No. 5 hat, leavin' 
 out the necktie, which was a shade somewhere between 
 a blue store front and a bottle of purple ink. 
 
 Even if I hadn't seen the face, I could have guessed 
 who it was, just by the get-up. Course, there's been 
 a good many noisy dressers floatin' around the grill 
 room district this winter, but there always has to be 
 one real scream in every crowd ; and this was it. 
 
 " If it ain't Shrimp ! " says I. 
 
 " Hello, Shorty ! " says he, in that little squeak of 
 his. 
 
 And at that some one swoops past me. There's a 
 flapping of green silk skirt, and Mother Dillon has 
 given him the high tackle. 
 
 " Aloysius ! My little 'Loyshy ! " she squeals. 
 
 And say, you could have pushed me over with one 
 finger. Here I'd been hearin' for the last two seasons 
 about this jock that had come up from stable helper 
 in a night, and how he'd been winning on nine out of 
 every ten mounts, and how all the big racing men was 
 overbiddm' each other to get him signed for their 
 stables. Some of Pinckney's sportin' friends had 
 
 306
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 towed Shrimp into the Studio once or twice, and be- 
 sides that I'd read in the papers all about his giddy 
 wardrobe, and his big Swede valet, and the English 
 chorus girl that had married him. But in all this talk 
 of Sadie's about the Dillon fam'ly, I'd never so much 
 as guessed that Aloysius, the stray, was one and the 
 same as Shrimp Dillon. 
 
 Here he was, though, in the Dillon flat, with Mother 
 Dillon almost knockin' his breath out pattin' him on 
 the back, and all the little Dillons jumpin' around and 
 yellin', " Uncle 'Loyshy, Uncle 'Loyshy ! " and Kate 
 and Maggie and Nora waitin' their turns; and the 
 rest of us, includin' old Larry and me and Sadie, 
 lookin' foolish. The only one that acts like he wa'n't 
 surprised is Pinckney. 
 
 Well, as soon as Shrimp can wiggle himself clear, 
 and shake the little Dillons off his legs, he hauls Mrs. 
 Shrimp to the front and does the honours. And say, 
 they make a pair that would draw a crowd anywhere ! 
 You know the style of chorus ladies the Lieblers bring 
 over, the lengthy, high chested, golden haired kind? 
 Well, she's one of the dizziest that ever stood up to 
 make a background for the pony ballet. And she has 
 on a costume well, it goes with the hat, which it 
 puttin' it strong. 
 
 If the sight of her and the circus coloured car wa'n't 
 enough to stun the neighbours and send the Bradys 
 
 307
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 under the bed, they had only to wait till the Swede 
 valet and the footman began luggin' up the sheaf of 
 two-dollar roses and the basket of champagne. 
 
 I was watchin' old Larry to see how he was takin' 
 it. First he looks Shrimp up and down, from the 
 brown hat to the yellow shoes, and then he gazes at 
 Mrs. Shrimp. Then his stiff lower jaw begins saggin' 
 down, and his knobby old ringers unloosens from the 
 grip they'd got into at first sight of 'Loyshy. It's plain 
 that he was some in doubt about that chuckin' out 
 programme he'd had all framed up. What Larry had 
 been expectin' should the boy turn up at all, was some- 
 thing that looked like it had been picked out of the 
 bread line. And here was a specimen of free spender 
 that had " Keep the change ! " pasted all over him. 
 Then, before he has it half figured out, they're lined 
 up in front of each other. But old Larry ain't one to 
 do the sidestep. 
 
 " Aloysius," says he, scowlin' down at him, " where 
 do ye be afther gettin' ut?" 
 
 "Out of the ponies, old stuff. Where else?" says 
 Shrimp. 
 
 " Bettin' ? " says Larry. 
 
 "Bettin' nothin'!" says Shrimp. "Mud ridinV 
 
 " Allow me," says Pinckney, pushin' in, " to intro- 
 duce to you all, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Shrimp 
 Dillon, one of the best paid jockeys in America." 
 308
 
 AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS 
 
 " And what might they be payin' the likes of him 
 for bein' a jockey? " says old Larry. 
 
 " Why," says Pinckney, " it was something like 
 twenty thousand this season, wasn't it, Shrimp ? " 
 
 " Countin' bonuses and all," says Shrimp, " it was 
 nearer thirty-two." 
 
 " Thirty-two thou " But Larry's mouth is open 
 
 so wide he can't get the rest out. He just catches his 
 breath, and then, " 'Loyshy, me lad, give us your hand 
 on it." 
 
 " Ahem ! " says Father Kelley, pickin' up his hat, 
 " this seems to be a case where the prodigal has re- 
 turned and brought his veal with him." 
 
 " That's a thrue word," says Larry. " Tis a proud 
 day for the Dillons." 
 
 Did they put it over the Bradys? Well, say! All 
 the Bradys has to do now, to remember who the Dil- 
 lons are, is to look across the way and see the two 
 geranium plants growin' out of solid silver pots. 
 Course, they wa'n't meant for flower pots. They're 
 champagne coolers ; but Mother Dillon don't know the 
 difference, so what's the odds? Anyway, they're what 
 'Loyshy brought for presents, and I'll bet they're the 
 only pair west of Sixth-avenue. 
 
 309
 
 XX 
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 SAY, I ain't one of the kind to go around makin* 
 a noise like a pickle, just because I don't happen to 
 have the same talents that's been handed out to others. 
 About all I got to show is a couple of punch distri- 
 butors that's more or less educated, and a block that's 
 set on some solid. Not much to get chesty over ; but 
 the combination has kept me from askin' for benefit 
 performances, and as a rule I'm satisfied. 
 
 There's times, though, when I wish say, don't go 
 givin' me the hee-haw on this when I wish I could 
 sing. Ah, I don't mean bein' no grand opera tenor, 
 with a throat that has to be kept in cotton battin' and 
 a reputation that needs chloride of lime. What would 
 suit me would be just a plain, every day la-la-la outfit 
 of pipes, that I could turn loose on coon songs when 
 I was alone, or out with a bunch in the moonlight. I'd 
 like to be able to come in on a chorus now and then, 
 without havin' the rest of the crowd turn on me and 
 call for the hook. 
 
 What music I've got is the ingrowin' kind. When 
 anybody starts up a real lively tune I can feel it throb- 
 
 310
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 bin' and bumpin' away in my head, like a blowfly in 
 a milk bottle; but if ever I try uncorkin' one of my 
 warbles, the people on the next block call in the chil- 
 dren, and the truck drivers begin huntin' for the dry 
 axle. 
 
 Now look at what bein' musical did for Rusty 
 Quinn. Who's Rusty? Well, he ain't much of any- 
 body. I used to wonder, when I'd see him kickin' 
 around under foot in different places, how it was he 
 had the nerve to go on livin'. Useless ! He appeared 
 about as much good to the world as a pair of boxin' 
 gloves would be to the armless wonder. 
 
 First I saw of Rusty was five or six years back, 
 when he was hangin' around my trainin' camp. He 
 was a long, slab sided, loose jointed, freckled up kid 
 then, always wearin' a silly, good natured grin on his 
 homely face. About all the good you could say of 
 Rusty was that he could play the mouth organ, and 
 be good natured, no matter how hard he was up 
 against it. 
 
 If there was anything else he could do well, no one 
 ever found it out, though he tried plenty of things. 
 And he always had some great scheme rattlin' round 
 in his nut, something that was goin' to win him the 
 big stake. But it was a new scheme every other day, 
 and, outside of grinnin' and playin' the mouth organ, 
 all I ever noticed specially brilliant about him was the
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 way he used cigarettes as a substitute for food. 
 Long's he had a bag of fact'ry sweepin's and a book of 
 rice papers he didn't mind how many meals he missed, 
 and them long ringers of his was so well trained they 
 could roll dope sticks while he slept. 
 
 Well, it had been a year or so since I'd run across 
 him last, and if I'd thought about him at all, which I 
 didn't, it would have been to guess what fin'lly finished 
 him; when this affair out on Long Island was pulled 
 off. The swells that owns country places along the 
 south shore has a horse show about this time every 
 year. As a rule they gets along without me bein' 
 there to superintend; but last week I happens to be 
 down that way, payin' a little call on Mr. Jarvis, an 
 old reg'lar of mine, and in the afternoon he wants to 
 know if I don't want to climb up on the coach with the 
 rest of the gang and drive over to see the sport 
 
 Now I ain't so much stuck on this four-in-hand 
 business. It's jolty kind of ridin', anyway, and if the 
 thing upsets you've got a long ways to fall; but I 
 always likes takin' a look at a lot of good horses, so 
 I plants myself up behind, alongside the gent that does 
 the tara-tara-ta act on the copper funnel, and off we 
 goes. 
 
 It ain't any of these common fair grounds horse 
 shows, such as anyone can buy a badge to. This is 
 held on the private trottin' track at Windymere you 
 312
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 know, that big estate that's been leased by the Twom- 
 bley-Cranes since they started makin' their splurge. 
 
 And say, they know how to do things in shape, them 
 folks. There's a big green and white striped tent set 
 up for the judges at the home plate, and banked around 
 that on either side was the traps and carts and bubbles 
 of some of the crispest cracker jacks on Mrs. Astor's 
 list. Course, there was a lot of people I knew; so 
 as soon as our coach is backed into position I shins 
 down from the perch and starts in to do the glad hand 
 walk around. 
 
 That's what fetches me onto one of the side paths 
 leadin' up towards the big house. I was takin' a 
 short cut across the grass, when I sees a little pro- 
 cession comin' down through the shrubbery. First 
 off it looks like some one was bein' helped into their 
 coat; but then I notices that the husky chap behind 
 was actin' more vigorous than polite. He has the 
 other guy by the collar, and was givin' him the knee 
 good and plenty, first shovin' him on a step or two, 
 and then jerkin' him back solid. Loomin' up in the 
 rear was a gent I spots right off for Mr. Twombley- 
 Crane himself, and by the way he follows I takes it 
 he's bossin' the job. 
 
 " Gee ! " says I to myself, " here's some one gettin' 
 the rough chuck-out for fair." 
 
 And then I has a glimpse of a freckly face and the
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 silly grin. The party gettin' the run was Rusty Quinn. 
 He's lookin' just as seedy as ever, being costumed in 
 a faded blue jersey, an old pair of yellow ridin' pants, 
 and leggin's that don't match. The bouncer is a great, 
 ham fisted, ruddy necked Britisher, a man twice the 
 weight of Rusty, with a face shaped like a punkin. As 
 he sees me slow up he snorts out somethin' ugly and 
 gives Quinn an extra hard bang in the back with his 
 knee. And that starts my temperature to risin' right 
 off. 
 
 " Why don't you hit him with a maul, you bloomin' 
 aitch eater," says I. "Hey, Rusty! what you been 
 up to now ? " 
 
 " Your friend's been happre'ended a-sneak thievin', 
 that's w'at ! " growls out the beef chewer. 
 
 " G'wan," says I. " I wouldn't believe the likes of 
 you under oath. Rusty, how about it ? " 
 
 Quinn, he gives me one of them batty grins of his 
 and spreads out his hand. " Honest, Shorty," says 
 he, " I was only after a handful of Turkish cigarettes 
 from the smokin' room. I wouldn't touched another 
 thing ; cross m' heart, I wouldn't ! " 
 
 " 'Ear 'im ! " says the Britisher. " And 'im caught 
 prowlin' through the 'ouse ! " With that he gives 
 Rusty a shake that must have loosened his back teeth, 
 and prods him on once more. 
 
 " Ah, say," says I, " you ain't got no call to break
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 his back even if he was prowlin'. Cut it out, you big 
 mucker, or " 
 
 Say, I shouldn't have done it, seein' where I was; 
 but the ugly look on his mug as he lifts his knee 
 again seems to pull the trigger of my right arm, and 
 I swings in one on that punkin head like I was chop- 
 pin' wood. He drops Rusty and comes at me with a 
 rush, windmill fashion, and I'm so happy for the next 
 two minutes, givin' him what he needs, that I've 
 mussed up his countenance a lot before I sends in the 
 one that finds the soft spot on his jaw and lands him 
 on the grass. 
 
 " Here, here ! " shouts Mr. Twombley-Crane, comin' 
 up just as his man does the back shoulder fall. " Why, 
 McCabe, what does this mean ? " 
 
 " Nothin' much," says I, " except that I ain't in love 
 with your particular way of speedin' the partin' guest." 
 
 " Guest ! " says he, flushin' up. " The fellow was 
 caught prowling. Besides, by what right do you ques- 
 tion my method of getting rid of a sneak thief? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't stop for rights in a case of this kind," 
 says I. " I just naturally butts in. I happens to know 
 that Rusty here, ain't any more of a thief than I am. 
 If you've got a charge to make, though, I'll see that 
 he's in court when " 
 
 "I don't care to bother with the police," says he. 
 " I merely want the fellow kicked off the place." 
 
 315
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 " Sorry to interfere with your plans," says I ; " but 
 he's been kicked enough. I'll lead him off, though, 
 and guarantee he don't come back, if that'll do? " 
 
 We both simmered down after he agrees to that 
 proposition. The beef eater picks himself up and limps 
 back to the house, while I escorts Rusty as far as the 
 gates, givin' him some good advice on the way down. 
 Seems he'd been workin' as stable helper at Windy- 
 mere for a couple of weeks, his latest dream bein' that 
 he was cut out for a jockey; but he'd run out of dope 
 sticks and, knowin' they was scattered around reckless 
 in the house, he'd just walked in lookin' for some. 
 
 " Which shows you've lost what little sense you ever 
 had," says I. " Now here's two whole dollars, Rusty. 
 Go off somewheres and smoke yourself to death. No- 
 body'll miss you." 
 
 Rusty, he just grins and moseys down the road, 
 while I goes back to see the show, feelin' about as 
 much to home, after that run in, as a stray pup in 
 church. 
 
 It was about an hour later, and they'd got through 
 the program as far as the youngsters' pony cart class, 
 to be followed by an exhibit of fancy farm teams. 
 Well, the kids was gettin' ready to drive into the ring. 
 There was a bunch of 'em, mostly young girls all 
 togged out in pink and white, drivin' dinky Shetlands 
 in wicker carts covered with daisies and ribbons. In 
 316
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 the lead was little Miss Gladys, that the Twombley- 
 Cranes think more of than they do their whole bank 
 account. The rigs was crowded into the main drive- 
 way, ready to turn into the track as soon as the way 
 was cleared, and it sure was a sight worth seein'. 
 
 I was standin' up on the coach, takin' it in, when 
 all of a sudden there comes a rumblin', thunderin' 
 sound from out near the gates, and folks begins askin' 
 each other what's happened. They didn't have to wait 
 long for the answer; for before anyone can open a 
 mouth, around the curve comes a cloud of dust, and 
 out dashes a pair of big greys with one of them heavy 
 blue and yellow farm waggons rattlin' behind. It was 
 easy to guess what's up then. One of the farm teams 
 has been scared. 
 
 Next thing that was clear was that there wa'n't 
 any driver on the waggon, and that them crazy horses 
 was headed straight for that snarl of pony carts. 
 There wa'n't any yellin' done. I guess 'most every 
 body's throat was too choked up. I know mine was. 
 I only hears one sound above the bang and rattle of 
 them hoofs and wheels. That was a kind of a groan, 
 and I looks down to see Mr. Twombley-Crane standin' 
 up in the seat of a tourin' car, his face the colour of a 
 wax candle, and such a look in his eyes as I ain't 
 anxious to see on any man again. 
 
 Next minute he'd jumped. But it wa'n't any USA 
 317
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 He was too far away, and there was too big a crowd 
 to get through. Even if he could have got there soon 
 enough, he couldn't have stopped them crazy brutes 
 any more'n he could have blocked a cannon ball. 
 
 I feels sick and faint in the pit of my stomach, and 
 the one thing I wants to do most just then is to shut 
 my eyes. But I couldn't. I couldn't look anywhere 
 but at that pair of tearin' horses and them broad iron 
 wheels. And that's why I has a good view of some- 
 thing that jumps out of the bushes, lands in a heap in 
 the waggon, and then scrambles toward the front seat 
 as quick as a cat. I see the red hair and the blue 
 jersey, and that's enough. I knows it's that useless 
 Rusty Quinn playin' the fool. 
 
 Now, if he'd had a pair of arms like Jeffries, maybe 
 there'd been some hope of his pullin' down them horses 
 inside the couple of hundred feet there was between 
 their front toe calks and where little Miss Gladys was 
 sittin' rooted to the cushions of her pony cart. But 
 Rusty's muscle development is about equal to that of 
 a fourteen-year boy, and it looks like he's goin' to do 
 more harm than good when he grabs the reins from 
 the whip socket. But he stands up, plants his feet 
 wide, and settles back for the pull. 
 
 Almost before anyone sees his game, he's done the 
 trick. There's a smash that sounds like a buildin' fall- 
 in' down, a crackin' and splinterin' of oak wood and
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 iron, a rattlin' of trace chains, a couple of soggy 
 thumps, and when the dust settles down we sees a 
 grey horse rollin' feet up on either side of a big maple, 
 and at the foot of the tree all that's left of that yellow 
 and blue waggon. Rusty had put what strength he 
 had into one rein at just the right time, and the pole 
 had struck the trunk square in the middle. 
 
 For a minute or so there was a grand hurrah, with 
 mothers and fathers rushin' to grab their youngsters 
 out of the carts and hug 'em ; which you couldn't blame 
 'em for doin', either. As for me, I drops off the back 
 of the coach and makes a bee line for that wreck, so 
 I'm among the first dozen to get there. I'm in time to 
 shove my shoulder under the capsized waggon body 
 and hold it up. 
 
 Well, there ain't any use goin' into details. What 
 we took from under there didn't look much like a 
 human bein', for it was as limp and shapeless as a 
 bag of old rags. But the light haired young feller 
 that said he was a medical student guessed there might 
 be some life left. He wa'n't sure. He held his ear 
 down, and after he'd listened for a minute he said 
 maybe something could be done. So we laid it on one 
 of the side boards and lugged it up to the house, while 
 some one jumps into a sixty-horse power ear and 
 starts for a sure enough doctor. 
 
 It was durin' the next ten minutes, when the young 
 319
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 student was cuttin' off the blue jersey and the ridin' 
 pants, and pokin' and feelin' around, that Mr. Twom- 
 bley-Crane gets the facts of the story. He didn't have 
 much to say ; but, knowin' what I did, and seein' how 
 he looked, I could easy frame up what was on his mind. 
 He gives orders that whatever was wanted should be 
 handed out, and he was standin' by holdin' the brandy 
 flask himself when them washed out blue eyes of 
 Rusty's flickers open for the first time. 
 
 " I I forgot my mouth organ," says Rusty. " I 
 wouldn't of come back but for that." 
 
 It wa'n't much more'n a whisper, and it was a shaky 
 one at that. So was Mr. Twombley-Crane's . voice 
 kind of shaky when he tells him he thanks the Lord 
 he did come back. And then Rusty goes off in another 
 faint. 
 
 Next a real doc. shows up, and he chases us all 
 out while him and the student has a confab. In five 
 minutes or so we gets the verdict. The doc. says 
 Rusty is damaged pretty bad. Things have happened 
 to his ribs and spine which ought to have ended him 
 on the spot. As it is, he may hold out another hour, 
 though in the shape he's in he don't see how he can. 
 But if he could hold out that long the doc. knows of an 
 A-i sawbones who could mend him up if anyone could. 
 
 " Then telephone for him at once, and do your best 
 meanwhile," says Mr. Twombley-Crane. 
 
 320
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 By that time everyone on the place knows about 
 Rusty and his stunt. The front rooms was full of 
 people standin' around whisperin' soft to each other 
 and lookin' solemn, swell, high toned folks, that half 
 an hour before hardly knew such specimens as Rusty 
 existed. But when the word is passed around that 
 probably he's all in, they takes it just as hard as if he 
 was one of their own kind. When it comes to takin' 
 the long jump, we're all pretty much on the same 
 grade, ain't we? 
 
 I begun to see where I hadn't any business sizin' 
 up Rusty like I had, and was workin' up a heavy feel- 
 in' in my chest, when the doc. comes out and asks if 
 there's such a party as Shorty McCabe present. I 
 knew what was comin'. Rusty has got his eyes open 
 again and is callin' for me. 
 
 I finds him half propped up with pillows on a shiny 
 mahogany table, his face all screwed up from the hurt 
 inside, and the freckles showin' up on his dead white 
 skin like peach stains on a table cloth. 
 
 " They say I'm all to the bad, Shorty," says he, try- 
 in' to spring that grin of his. 
 
 " Aw, cut it out ! " says I. " You tell 'em they got 
 another guess. You're too tough and rugged to go 
 under so easy." 
 
 " Think so ? " says he, real eager, his eyes lightin' up. 
 
 " Sure thing ! " says I. Say, I put all the ginger 
 321
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 and cheerfulness I could fake up into that lie. And 
 it seems to do him a heap of good. When I asks him 
 if there's anything he wants, he makes another crack 
 at his grin, and says: 
 
 " A paper pipe would taste good about now." 
 
 " Let him have it," says the doc. So the student 
 digs out his cigarette case, and we helps Rusty light up. 
 
 " Ain't there somethin' more, Rusty ? " says I. 
 " You know the house is yours." 
 
 " Well," says he, after a few puffs, " if this is to be 
 a long wait, a little music would help. There's a 
 piano over in the corner." 
 
 I looks at the doc. and shakes my head. He shakes 
 back. 
 
 " I used to play a few hymns," says the student. 
 
 " Forget 'em, then," says Rusty. " A hymn would 
 finish me, sure. What I'd like is somethin' lively." 
 
 "Doc.," says I, "would it hurt?" 
 
 " Couldn't," says he. Also he whispers that he'd 
 use chloroform, only Rusty's heart's too bad, and if 
 he wants ragtime to deal it out. 
 
 " Wish I could," says I ; " but maybe I can find some 
 one who can." 
 
 With that I slips out and hunts up Mrs. Twombley- 
 Crane, explainin' the case to her. 
 
 " Why, certainly," says she. " Where is Effie? I'll 
 send her in right away." 
 
 322
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 She's a real damson plum, Effie is ; one of the cute, 
 fluffy haired kind, about nineteen. She comes in look- 
 in' scared and sober; but when she's had a look at 
 Rusty, and he's tried his grin on her, and said how he'd 
 like to hear somebody tear off somethin' that would 
 remind him of Broadway, she braces right up. 
 
 " I know," says she. 
 
 And say, she did know ! She has us whirl the baby 
 grand around so's she can glance over the top at 
 Rusty, tosses her lace handkerchief into one corner of 
 the keyboard, pushes back her sleeves until the elbow 
 dimples show, and the next thing we know she's teasin' 
 the tumpety-tum out of the ivories like a professor. 
 
 She opens up with a piece you hear all the kids 
 whistlin', something with a swing and a rattle to it, 
 I don't know what. But it brings Rusty up on his elbow 
 and sets him to keepin' time with the cigarette. Then 
 she slides off into " Poor John ! " and Rusty calls out 
 for her to sing it, if she can. Can she? Why, she's 
 got one of them sterling silver voices, that makes Vesta 
 Victoria's warblin' sound like blowin' a fish horn, and 
 before she's half through the first verse Rusty has 
 joined in. 
 
 " Come on ! " says he, as they strikes the chorus. 
 " Everybody ! " 
 
 Say, the doc. was right there with the goods. He 
 roars her out like a good one; and the student 
 
 3 2 3
 
 SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY 
 
 chap wa'n't far behind, either. You know how it 
 goes 
 
 John, he took me round to see his moth-er, his moth-er, his 
 
 moth-er ! 
 And while he introduced us to each oth-er 
 
 Eh? Well, maybe that ain't just the way it goes; 
 but I can think the tune right. That was what I was 
 up against then. I knew I couldn't make my voice 
 behave; so all I does is go through the motions with 
 my mouth and tap the time out with my foot. But I 
 sure did ache to jump in and help Rusty out. 
 
 It was a great concert. She gives us all them 
 classic things, like " The Bird on Nellie's Hat," " Wait- 
 ing at the Church," " No Wedding Bells for Me," and 
 so on; her fingers just dancin', and her head noddin' 
 to Rusty, and her eyes kind of encouragin' him to keep 
 his grip. 
 
 Twice, though, he has to quit, as the pain twists 
 him; and the last time, when he flops back on the 
 pillows, we thought he'd passed in for good. But in 
 a minute or so he's up again' callin' for more. Say, 
 maybe you think Miss Effie didn't have some grit of 
 her own, to sit there bangin' out songs like that, ex- 
 pectin' every minute to see him keel over. But she 
 stays with it, and we was right in the middle of that 
 chorus that goes 
 
 324
 
 THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN 
 
 In old New York, in old New York, 
 The peach crop's always fine 
 
 when the foldin' doors was slid back, and in comes 
 the big surgeon gent we'd been waitin' for. You 
 should have seen the look on him too, as he sizes up 
 them three singing and Rusty there on the table, a 
 cigarette twisted up in his fingers, fightin' down a 
 spasm. 
 
 " What blasted idiocy is this ? " he growled. 
 
 " New kind of pain killer, doc.," says I. " Tell you 
 all about it later. What you want to do now is get 
 busy." 
 
 Well, that's the whole of it. He knew his book, that 
 bone repairer did. He worked four hours steady, put- 
 tin' back into place the parts of Rusty that had got 
 skewgeed ; but when he rolls down his sleeves and quits 
 he leaves a man that's almost as good as ever, barrin' 
 a few months to let the pieces grow together. 
 
 I was out to see Rusty yesterday, and he's doin' fine. 
 He's plannin', when he gets around again, to take the 
 purse that was made up for him and invest it in air- 
 ship stock. 
 
 " And if ever I make a million dollars, Shorty," says 
 he, " I'm goin' to hand over half of it to that gent that 
 sewed me up." 
 
 " Good ! " says I. " And if I was you I'd chuck the 
 other half at the song writers." 
 
 325
 
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